Winter's Wrath
by CelticPagan-3
Summary: Arya Stark left Westeros four years ago, but a chance meeting with two men of the Nights Watch prompts her to return to the place she once called home and reclaim what's rightfully hers. Travelling across Westeros, Arya gathers an army to take back the North, reliving old memories, reuniting with old friends, and trying to hide the person she has become - Full Summary Inside
1. Chapter 1: Arya

**_Full Summery:_**_Arya Stark left Westeros four years ago, but a chance meeting with two men of the Nights Watch prompts her to return to the place she once called home and reclaim what's rightfully hers. Travelling across Westeros, Arya gathers an army to take back the North, reliving old memories, reuniting with old friends, and trying to hide the person she has become in Braavos. Gendry lost the only person in his life who ever saw something in, who treated him like he was worth a damn. She was his only true friend, and because of a moment of stupidity, he had pushed her away. He blamed himself for not saving her from her kidnapper, and now he lived each day with guilt bubbling inside. He thought he would never see her again, he barely believed the rumours of her return until she walked right back into his life._

_She's frozen to the core, He never wants to leave her side again and as their journey takes some unexpected turns, the person she once trusted with her biggest secret begins to melt the ice within her, but will he still be there when the last of her secrets flow into the open?_

**_A/N: Hi there! Welcome to my new fic. This is my first ASoIaF fic, but I had this idea take form in my mind and I just couldn't let it go, so I started writing. I know this has been done before, but this is my take on Arya's return to Westeros after a number of years in Braavos. I'm working on two fics at once, so updates may not be every fortnight, but I will try my best._**

**_I've tried to stick as much to the books as possible, The story picks up a few years after the end of A Dance with Dragons - if you notice anything majorly wrong, please let me know :) (I have taken the liberty of keeping Jon alive - I'm in denial about his final chapter, and I refuse to believe he dies lol)_**

**_A word of warning, this is going to be a bit of a slow burner when it comes to the Arya/Gendry storyline, and it's looking to be a long story, at least 30 chapters I think at the moment (That's just a rough estimate, it could be a couple less, or a few more.) Chapters will be written in a certain character's perspective, like the books, and I'll be swapping mainly between Arya and Gendry, but with a couple of others thrown in there when it's needed._**

**_The rating is a T for now, but it will be upgraded to M further along (There will definitely be a few lemons the further in we get), but I will post a warning at the top of the chapter before we get to it._**

**_I have nothing else to say, except thanks for giving it a go, I hope you like it :)_**

**_xBx_**

**_Oh yeah, major DISCLAIMER (to cover the entire story): I own nothing, it all belongs to George R.R. Martin. But we all know that, so I won't be saying it again lol_**

* * *

**Chapter 1: Arya**

_The night was almost black: the snow had finally stopped, the sky was clear for the first time in weeks and thousands of stars were out. But there was no moon. She stalked forward, wary, her four feet crunching over the fresh, thick layer of snow covering the forest floor. There was the smell of human in the air; she raised her nose to the sky and sniffed in deep: three humans. Three smells, all uniquely different but at the same time, identical._

_Her pack was ten paces behind her, as they always were, but she knew they were there. She could sense them – they never strayed far from her side. She was three times the size of them now, but still they ran with her – they would never eat if they didn't._

_She sniffed again: fire. And burnt meat. These humans liked to burn their meat before they ate it, but she didn't understand why: she liked fresh meat that bled warm when you took your first bite._

_She was close to the humans now; she could see them through the trees. She stalked around, circling her prey, keeping out of sight._Quiet as a shadow_. Her brothers and sisters were closer now – not her true brothers, they had been separated a long time now, and one was no longer there at all. Neither was her sister, she had been the first to leave for good: the first of the pack to die. But her adopted pack was with her now, circling the prey, the same as their leader. She made the first strike, darting through the trees and bowling over the biggest human._Quiet as a shadow, swift as a dear_. That was how she attacked, quiet and swift, but when her pack joined the fray, all became noisy and chaotic. Not that it mattered, the three humans fell with ease, their horses even easier, and the pack ate well that night._

_Somewhere in the back of her mind, she felt a presence, not like that of her true brothers. It was a distant connection to the one she loved most, but who had sent her away a long time ago. Though they had been separated for years, she still sensed her master, and she had been sensing her more often for many moons now. Sometimes she shared her master's thoughts, registering things that she wouldn't normally notice. It happened in that moment, as she attacked, something stirred in her mind, and she knew these men were her master's enemies. She knew it by the colour of the human's garb._ Lannister Crimson_._

Arya awoke in her room to the first light of day edging through the small window, a small smile gracing her lips, the hot coppery taste of blood still tingling on her tongue.

Despite being an apprentice of the Faceless Men of Braavos, Arya Stark continued to have her Wolf Dreams, and she had no intention of stopping. By becoming a Faceless Man – or in her case, woman – she was supposed to give up her past identity: all…well, she had lost count of how many people she had pretended to be in the past. She never told anyone about her Wolf Dreams, but she never tried to give them up either. She enjoyed being back in Westeros, seeing through the eyes of her direwolf, Nymeria.

She had realised, not long after being presented with her apprentice robes, what these dreams meant. She had been dreaming of Nymeria for years, before she even left Westeros, but back then she had only assumed it was because she missed her. She was still a child when she had left Westeros; on the verge of becoming a woman, it was true, and grown up in many ways, but still a child in many more.

But the dreams had continued, and had become more frequent as of late. She had even found she had some control in these dreams: she could make Nymeria do something she wanted to do, she had felt Nymeria resist at first, but soon she bent to her will. These dreams, coupled with her ability to see through the eyes of the cats when she had been blind, a few years ago, meant only one thing to her: she was a Warg, a Skinchanger. The blood of the First Men ran thick in her veins, she had known this for years; she could not ignore that, it would seem, nor give that part of her identity up. Perhaps this hindered her advancement through her apprenticeships, it had been three years since she had completed her first assassination, but she still had a long way to go.

The sun was rising outside her window, and with the early hours of a new day came the usual noise you expect to hear about the docks: merchants selling their treasures at a cheaper rate, brought from as far as Asshai, and the cities of Slaver's Bay; fishmongers selling their freshest catch, brought into port at the break of dawn. Captains shouted across ships to one another, and sometimes just shouted at their crew in general – usually those who took it upon themselves to stagger back on board at this hour of the day after spending the night at one of the many whore-houses along the front.

Arya rose from her small bed, washed quickly in the bowl of cold water, and put on her simple rough-spun dress, lacing up the bodice tight, as she had done every morning for the past ten days. Although she was now a woman grown, she was still skinny and small, her figure rather boyish, and when she dressed in breeches and a loose enough tunic, only her hair and the feminine features of her face told people she was a girl. In the dress, however, she managed to display some curves, with small breasts, somewhat narrow hips and an even narrower waist. Her figure had changed since she had made her way to Braavos, that much she was aware of. It had started changing before she had even left Westeros, though it had changed more since she came here and she didn't get her first moons blood until she had been in Braavos near on a year.

She thought back to when she first noticed the subtle changes in her body, as she quickly pulled a brush through her hair. It had been when that woman had forced her into that god awful dress and tried to make her look like a proper little lady – _if she could see me now_, she smirked. When she had been bathed for the first time in over a month, she finally had noticed the dark curls beginning to grow between her thighs, and when the dress had been laced she had noticed that her chest was not as flat as it had used to be – true, her breasts had hardly began to form, but you could see they were starting to blossom. It was an awful evening, she had been incredibly self-conscious and it was made even more mortifying when _he_ had laughed as soon as –

Arya shook her head violently, "No. You are No One." She told herself in the mirror, "No One has no memories. What is wrong with you?" She chastised herself. She wasn't usually like this: she was now having her wolf dreams every night, and it seemed every morning she was accosted with some distant, half formed memories of a young girl's life in Westeros.

She took a breath, cleared her mind, and set down the brush. _Today is the day_, _valar morghulis, _she thought to herself as she glanced back at the small mirror. Her own face looked back at her, she had not yet learnt how to change her face, the way she had once seen Jaqen H'ghar do, but nor did she need to for this particular task. As a girl, she had never been thought to be particularly pretty, but as a woman she had grown into her looks, and though Arya herself could not see it, others now considered her as a rather beautiful young woman. And a pretty serving girl at the largest inn in Ragman's Harbour would never be capable of killing a sailor. She knew it was a bold choice, using her own face and not another one from _that_ room. After this job, she would never be able to leave the House and Black and White again without wearing the face of another. But for some reason she couldn't quite place, it had felt like the right thing to do.

She twisted her hair into a rough knot, quickly shoving a pin in to hold it in place. Her hair had grown considerably since she had first left Westeros, and it now fell to the middle of her back, in thick dark brown tresses. She had never been particularly girly, much to her Lady Mother's consternation, and she was aware that shorter hair was a deal easier to manage, but after the brutal experience she had had, having her hair cut short the first time, she couldn't bring herself to do it again.

She descended the stairs of the Drunken Pirate, at which she was currently living and working. Guests would usually rise about an hour after dawn and would be expecting bread and ale to break their fast, and would be expecting her to serve it to them.

The morning started out as much the same as any other: men came and went, some staying barely five minutes, others staying three hours. Some were there simply to while away the hours until their ship left port, others for business, and some because they had nothing else to do. Lunchtime came and went, with nothing more exciting happening than a drunken sailor trying to put his hand up her skirts and into her underclothes. He paid for his troubles by being thrown mercilessly from the establishment by Arya herself, saying in his ear as she did:

"You would do better at the Happy Port, where tricks like that are welcomed for a price of silver. Here that gets you the gift of steel in your side." Arya had regretted her outburst almost instantaneously: the rash temper was from the person she used to be, belonging to a life she had been trying to forget. Now, she was supposed to be calm: _calm as still water_ a half-forgotten voice whispered in the back of her mind, tugging at her memories.

The man had staggered away, his thick cloak sheltering him from the cold winter winds blowing in from the Shivering Sea. Later that afternoon, it was rumoured he had fallen at the doors of the Happy Port, his own dagger protruding from his side. It is thought the drunken fool impaled himself as he stumbled, but no one knew for sure.

The day wore on, and as the winter evening drew in fast, the inn became crowded with sailors and travellers, seeking a warm meal, good ale, and music. Arya was more alert to her surroundings than on any other day: any moment now, her target would enter, and her sole reason for being here would reach its climax. As Arya weaved her way through the tables, a jug of ale in each had, two new persons entered the establishment. Both were men, with the look of Westeros about them, and both were wearing black. All black. They were brothers of the Night's Watch, and Arya couldn't help but make her way directly to them – she did not recognise these men, and she had been gone from Westeros so long, they would not know who she was. She knew she was risking an awful lot, putting herself in front of these men, _Had it been another day, I might have looked the other way,_ Arya thought, but after the endless string of wolf dreams, and the vivid memory of this morning, she just couldn't seem to stop herself.

"You two have flown far from your wall." Arya smiled, a faint Braavosi accent colouring her words.

The younger of the two grinned back, his eyes shamelessly raking Arya's form from top to bottom. The older man however, was looking at Arya warily, somewhat confused. _It's almost as if he recognises me,_ Arya thought, immediately recognising the man's expression, and interpreting it correctly – four years in Braavos had taught her how to read a person perfectly. _Though he can't,_ she reasoned, _if we had ever met, it would have been at Winterfell, and I haven't been there since I was a child._

"That we are," The younger man said, still wearing that insolent smile, "And what happens in Braavos, stays in Braavos." He added suggestively, a hungry glint in his eyes, taking an automatic step forwards, towards her. He was rewarded for his bawdiness with a sharp slap to the head from his Brother.

"You are a Brother of the Night's Watch, Calloway, you may not be at the Wall now but your vows still stand." The older brother chastised, and then looked keenly at Arya, "You are not Braavosi, are you? Despite your accent." He asked, and Arya smiled. It was a simple smile, that didn't quite reach her eyes, and gave no answer to the question.

Ignoring the statement, she simply asked: "Would you like food? Ale? A room for the night?"

"All." The elder brother said, but he would not be distracted. "You are from Westeros. I would wager from the North, given your…look." He finished, that wary look back in his eyes, and immediately Arya knew, his features saying more than all his words would ever say. _He knows I'm a Stark_. This was dangerous ground to tread upon at the best of times, but particularly in this hour, when she could not be distracted from her task. Nor could she have anyone watching her intently, either. But regardless of either of these things, Arya felt herself being drawn to the two men of the Nights Watch.

As Arya opened her mouth to speak, the door to the inn opened again, and her target entered, right on time, pulling her back into focus. "Go to the bar and ask for Maryn. He will sort you with a room. I will bring food and ale up to you myself." She said to the elder Brother, making a hasty decision: their conversation had to end for now, but that didn't mean it couldn't begin again, after.

Before the Brothers could say another word, Arya disappeared amongst the tables, winding her way towards her target. He was an older man, who liked to call himself a sailor, though he had not sailed the seas for many a year. Arya did not know much of him, nor why he had been targeted. All she knew was his name, and that she had a gift to deliver to him. When she did she would be rewarded with her fair share of coin.

Before reaching her target she passed the serving hatch of the kitchens; she quickly emptied one of the jugs into the other, and handed the empty jug through the hatch.

"Brynne, could you refill the jug and put it back behind the bar? I would do it myself, but these sailors have a thirst tonight, like none I've known." Arya called out to one of the kitchen maids, in fluent Braavosi.

"Right away, Cassa!" Brynne called back – Cassa was the name Arya had given herself for this task, taken from the cassava plant, whose toxins she was planning to use this very night. She never used her own name, and she never used the same name twice: after all, she was supposed to be No One.

Without slowing her step, Arya meandered through the tables, filling up cups here and there until her pitcher was almost empty, ignoring the bawdy jests and the straying hands of many a man as she passed by. A table away, her target caught her eye, saw the jug in her hand and motioned her over. Arya smiled and walked towards him making sure to keep eye contact, as her free hand deftly swept up and over the jug, as if to wipe away a drip from the spout. Unseen to anyone, she had deposited a handful of crystals into the remaining liquid, which dissolved instantaneously. She had often heard it said that poison was a woman's trick, a cowardly way to kill – she disagreed, it was a stealthy way to kill, and a clever way that left no trace, if it was done right.

When she reached her target, she poured his measure, still maintaining her smile, before turning and walking away.

"Valar Morghulis." She whispered, before walking toward a group who looked about ready to draw their steel and fight. She had another cupful of ale, at least, left in her jug that she needed to justifiably empty before someone else could drink it. Just as she thought, the group of men, all drunk, unsheathed their steel just as Arya was passing: One sliced at another, hitting his target, and spattering blood across Arya's dress and, thanks to the way Arya held it, right into the jug.

Maryn was there instantly, breaking up the fight with the help of a couple of the more sober patriots of the inn, and tossing out the offending sailors in less than a minute.

When peace was restored, he turned to Arya, "Are you well, Cassa?" He asked her in Braavosi.

"I am fine," Arya answered in the same tongue, "The ale is not, the idiots spilt their blood in it."

"Toss it, and clean the jug properly before you refill." He told her, "And when you've done that, take nourishment up to the two Westerosi in black. It seems you promised to feed them in their rooms." He barked. "I don't have time to be running around after other people – you promised, so you do it. And don't make that promise again. I don't care where they're from, or who they are, they eat down here in future."

Arya nodded demurely, and did as she was told. It had taken a while for her to accept being spoken to in such a way, without causing a fuss. She had grown up flouting authority, and being spoken to in a way that was proper for a Lady to be spoken to. When someone spoke to her rudely, or harshly, making demands of her, she had fired back and flatly refused to comply. That sort of behaviour did not have a place in a servant of the House of Black and White, and she had had to snap out of it pretty quickly.

By the time she was heading upstairs with a tray in hand, her target was leaving, looking as healthy as he had when he had entered. The concoction in his drink had been made to be slow acting, and would not do him harm for another hour at least, by which time he would be well away from this place.

Arya disappeared up the stairs, making her way to the room the Black Brothers had taken, where she knocked on the door and entered, placing the tray down on the one table in their room.

"Ale. And fish stew in a trencher of hard bread." Arya announced, "It's simple, but it's tasty." She assured them, as she proceeded to pour some ale into the two cups.

"What brings the Night's Watch to Braavos?" Arya asked after a moment, serving the men their drinks.

"We're passing through, on our way to Oldtown." The younger man, named Calloway, spoke while the older man once again looked keenly at Arya.

"Why not take the King's Road?" She asked, without thinking.

"Quicker this way, and somewhat safer. The snows are falling thick and fast in the North, and the cold winds are blowing further south of the wall than they ever have before." The young one said told her.

Arya visibly shivered, she couldn't stop herself, as she suddenly remembered the stories her past self was once told. _When the cold winds rise, the dead rise with them._

"Winter is Coming." She whispered automatically, her mouth taking over for the briefest of moments, her lips barely moving. Calloway paid her no mind, tucking into his meal instead, as if he had not eaten in weeks. He had not heard the words, nor seen her mouth move.

The older man, however, had been watching her carefully, heard it all, and now he frowned.

"Calloway," he barked suddenly, "Go down to the bar and get us a decent flagon of red. Gods know I haven't had decent wine since I first step foot in Eastwatch, too many years past."

Calloway grumbled, but did as he was told. When the door was shut behind him, the Brother spoke again. "You _are_ from the North: Only a Northerner would shudder at those words, for only they understand what they truly mean." He said.

"I was told stories as a child, about the Others beyond the wall." Arya admitted. "You are from Eastwatch?" She asked.

"Aye." He nodded, "Well I've seen 'em beyond the wall." He told her, "And people are seeing 'em south of the wall, now too. For thousands of years, Rangers only gave one or two blasts of their horns. Now, every time it's heard, it's three that are given." The older brother said solemnly, "My name's Whitlock, Allard Whitlock. But most people call me Big Al." He told her, "I command at Eastwatch, now. What did you say your name was?" He asked.

"I didn't." Arya smiled, "What other news do you bring from Westeros? And what takes you to Oldtown?" She asked, trying to change the subject.

"Why should I tell you?" Big Al asked, not harshly, but cautiously.

"Why shouldn't you?" Arya countered, "I'm simply a serving girl at a Braavosi inn, interested in news of her old country."

"Why did you leave?" The older man asked shrewdly, and Arya smiled.

"Answer my questions and I'll answer yours." She told him truthfully. The brother nodded.

"Alright then. The Lord Commander sent us to escort his new Maester. He sent a Black Brother to Oldtown a few years back, the same way we've come, to be trained, and now it's time he returned."

Arya nodded, "I remember them." She told him, "One of them stayed behind-"

"A deserter," He interrupted with a scowl, "I suppose he's long gone from here, now."

"He's dead." Arya told him with certainty; she was the one who killed him after all, not that she told him that.

"So much the better," Al spoke gruffly, "Though it would have been useful to have him back at the wall. We are low on men as it is, and we're losing more by the day."

"What about the North?" Arya asked, "Do they not lend you their swords?"

"We sometimes get a helping hand, but they rarely have any men to spare. Too busy fighting amongst themselves. It was a bad day for the North, when Ned Stark went south, all those years ago. Even worse when the Young Wolf followed with his army." The older man sighed. "The North is not united, without a Stark in Winterfell."

Arya kept her face impassive, as the man continued, digging into his simple supper. "Of course, a Stark supposedly returned for a brief period, much good it did. Now the Greyjoys declare themselves King of the Iron Isles and the North, and Ramsey Bolton – who used to be Snow – holds Winterfell, in the name of his lost wife: The Lady Arya Stark." He said this carefully, watching Arya intently.

"How is that possible?" Arya asked, without thinking of the implications: it was strange to hear herself talked about as still alive in Westeros, when for the past four years she had been in Braavos, living as No-one, Arya Stark left in the past. Stranger still that she was apparently married, to the Bolton bastard no less! She had a strange feeling she had heard this rumour before, before she left Westeros: her thoughts flickered to the Hound – had he said it? Or had someone said it to him? Before she could explore the memory properly, Allard's voice brought her back to the present.

"I've been asking myself the same question. See, I've heard a lot about this Arya Stark, from her bastard brother, Lord Commander Snow. According to him, Arya was the only one of Lady Catelyn's brood in whom the Stark blood ran thick – she looked more like Jon Snow, than any of her other siblings. And she was quite the troublemaker: enjoyed getting dirty and playing rough with her brothers over learning to be a proper little lady, like her sister. But the people who saw Arya's return to Winterfell say she has grown into quite a demure ladylike woman, and their descriptions of her seem a little wanting. If truth be told, I'd say you look more like a Stark than Bolton's wife turned out to be." The brother told her, but Arya kept her face straight, and her eyes blank, as if this story didn't move her. He leaned forward, and spoke quietly.

"I was once at Winterfell, when the late Lord Rickard was alive, as was Lord Brandon. Before Benjen took the black, before Eddard went south to fight, before Lyanna disappeared and died. A funny thing: when I first walked into this place, I could have sworn I was looking at a ghost." Big Al whispered, his eyes never leaving Arya's face. The room was silent, the un-asked question hanging pointedly in the air, until the moment was broken as Calloway returned.

"This is the best they have, the wench behind the bar said." He declared, setting the flagon down on the table, completely unaware of what he was interrupting. "It better be bloody good, it cost a pretty penny." He grumbled, before tucking back into his meal.

"I will leave you to your meals," Arya smiled, walking to the door, she stooped in the doorway, and looked back into the room. "When do you sail for Oldtown?" She asked quietly.

Big Al frowned at the lack of confirmation about who she was, but answered her all the same. "We've booked passage on _Summer's Snow_. She leaves at dawn."

"I will see you at the docks in the hour before dawn, for I sail on her too." Arya declared, her decision made in a split second.

"And why would you be doing that, I wonder?" Al asked shrewdly.

"Sleep well, should you need anything else, the bar is always open until the early hours." Arya said, ignoring the question. She left them to the remainder of their dinner with many and more questions running through Big Al's head, and returned to the bar to finish her work, trying not to wonder if she was making a wise decision.

The plan had always been to simply disappear into the night once her task was done, the same way she always did, and that part would not change. In her mind, simple chance could not have delivered the men of the Nights Watch to her on her last night in the inn, before she disappeared. And it could not be simple coincidence that they would appear when she was working with her own true face – she had never done that before, but this time she had chose not to be given a new one, for reasons she couldn't then explain. But she could explain it now: This was the work of the Gods, her Gods, the old Gods of the North calling her back. She had been longing for her home more often than usual, of late, and now the time felt right to return.

Her brothers were gone, all dead, and Sansa – she didn't know what had become of Sansa, but she didn't feel like she really cared, if truth were told. She was the last Stark left: the Greyjoys had stolen her brother's crown and the Bolton bastard was using her name to rule. That she could not allow. That she _would __not_ allow.

When night fell, she returned to her room as usual, closing and locking the door, but instead of undressing, she threw a thick cloak around her, pulled the hood up over her head to hide her face, and climbed out of the window and onto the rooftops.

Travelling through the city across the rooftops was the swiftest and safest way to travel: no one would think to look for you this high up. Soon enough she came to the house of Black and White, entering the way she always did when she returned, she went to her room in the vast house, and there she waited.

Before too long, the Kindly Man found her sat on her bed, her cloak still fastened about her shoulders, only the hood had been removed.

"Valar Morghulis." He said.

"Valar Dohaeris," Arya responded.

"One hears tell that a sailor died today." The Kindly Man spoke, in Braavosi.

"Is that so?" Arya responded in the same tongue, "And how did that happen?"

"He took his usual drink in the Drunken Pirate, and then made his way to the Happy Port as he always did. Just as he was receiving his pleasure, it seems his heart failed to continue beating, and his lungs stopped working and no one can understand why." He declared.

The Kindly Man bestowed a smile, "You have done well." He pulled out a small bag, jingling with coin, and tossed it to Arya, who caught it deftly.

"Silver, for this one." He told her, "His death was more important than your last. You have not removed your cloak. Why?" He asked.

"I am not staying." Arya said directly.

"Why?" The Kindly Man asked simply, as if this revelation were not a shock to him.

"Because this is not who I am." Arya told him simply, standing as she spoke.

"And who are you?" He asked. He had asked Arya this question a thousand times before, and she had always answered 'I am No One.' An answer expected of her, but an answer he never believed. This time she answered differently, she answered truthfully.

"I am Lady Arya of House Stark, the rightful heir of Winterfell." She told him, standing tall and proud, her face serious. "I am a wolf." She stated, "And it is time for me to take back what is rightfully mine."

Her teacher looked at her impassively for a moment, and then to Arya's astonishment (though she never let it show) he smiled a small smile. "And finally, you speak a truth: a truth from your heart, which you believe with every fibre of your being. Yes, you are," He agreed, "But do you remember what I said to you, when you first stepped foot in here?" He asked.

Arya remembered perfectly: this memory was as clear as day to her. "The House of Black and White is no place for Arya, of House Stark." She repeated back to him, word for word, that which he had spoke to her four years ago.

"Just so." The kindly man nodded, producing an iron coin, just like the one Jaqen H'ghar had given her once, and pressing it into Arya's palm. "Now go, Lady Arya, of House Stark. And leave Braavos quickly."

Arya was uncertain as to whether or not that was a threat, but she left the House of Black and White quickly all the same. She retrieved Needle from its hiding place, where it had been hidden undisturbed for over three years now. Fastening the blade to her waist, she fastened the cloak it had been wrapped in, underneath the one she was currently wearing – no doubt the extra layer would be welcome in the snows of Westeros. She had grown a lot since the last time she had worn the cloak. Where before it reached down to her ankles, now it only just reached her knees. Quiet as a shadow, quick as a snake, she flitted through the streets of Braavos, making her way back towards the docks, finding her way to _Summer's Snow_, the ship that would take her home.

In the hour before dawn, the two brothers of Night's Watch appeared at the end of the jetty; Arya appeared from the shadows, to follow the men on board. When the captain had tried to stop her from boarding, claiming he had never agreed to take her, she pressed the iron coin into his palm.

"Surely you can find room for one more?" She asked as the captain turned the coin over in his hand. "Valar Morghulis." She added.

"Valar Dohaeris." He responded, "You can take my cabin."

Arya smiled and shook her head, "There will be no need, I can share with the Brothers." She told him. He tried to persuade her otherwise, but Arya was adamant and finally won the argument.

As the sun began to pull its way up from the horizon, the sails were hoisted, the oars were dispatched, and _Summer's Snow_ made it's way out of Ragman's Harbour.

Arya smiled as she left Braavos. Finally, she was going home, to Winterfell. Her journey had started so many years ago, the day she fled Kings Landing, disguised as Arry the orphan boy. And now, she was finally embarking on the final leg of her journey: It would be long, it would be hard, and no doubt full of blood, but if it finally took her home, she felt it would all be worth it.

* * *

**_A/N: So there you have it, if feel like leaving a review please do :) let me know what you thought, if you loved it, hated it I want to know...though try and go a little easy with the hate lol_**

**_Also, halfway through the chapter, I had an idea (I won't say 'genius' because I reckon this is going to come back and bite me on the ass!) to include a song lyric in every chapter some of them will probably be more obvious than others. But there's one in there somewhere, from a song by The Beatles. If you think you find it let me know :)_**

**_xBx_**


	2. Chapter 2: Aegon

_**A/N: Back with a speedy update - a lot quicker than I'd anticipated. Thanks for all my reviews, So many for one chapter is awesome! you guys rock!**_

_**You can now follow me on twitter CelticPagan3 to keep up with my progress on fics :) **_

_**Last chapter had a song lyric hidden in there: it was 'Had it been another day, I might have looked the other way.' from **_**I've Just Seen a Face_ by _The Beatles_. (Arya's thoughts when the Black Brothers arrive.) This chapter has another lyric, this time from a song by The Cranberries :)_**

**_Enjoy,_**

**_xBx_**

* * *

**Chapter 2: Aegon**

It had been three years since Aegon hand landed in Westeros and claimed Cape Wrath. In those years he had accomplished a good deal, but at the same time, not enough. All of Dorne had privately declared for him, but were yet to stir their armies; six months after he had landed, Arianne Martell, princess of Dorne, had arrived at Lord Connington's holdfast with a retinue and a letter from her father, Prince Doran, offering a solid and strong alliance, and his daughter's hand in marriage as a token of good faith. Aegon saw the unwritten words in this message, easy enough: _Make my daughter your Queen, and we shall make you a King._

Of course, Aegon had accepted these terms graciously, he would have been a fool not to – there was no way he could even dream of attempting to take the Iron Throne without the backing of the Martells and Dorne. For the next year, Aegon had quietly begun to amass his force, extending his field of civil conquest to Tarth, as well as winning over a number of Houses originally sworn to Highgarden. The Tyrells were now remaining somewhat aloof in the war: Margaery Tyrell was Tommen's Queen and was battling for power with Cersei who still named herself Queen Regent. Margaery, and her brother Loras of the Kingsguard, were the only two Tyrells now left in King's Landing; all the rest had returned to Highgarden and the Reach, and had not bestirred themselves since – for either side.

About eighteen months after his landing, a number of battles broke out between him and some Lannister hosts. The battles were more skirmishes – Aegon knew his strengths were being tested, that the Lannisters were simply reaching out their feelers to get a taste of what they may be coming up against anytime soon. He didn't attack with full force, but he gave enough strength to send the lions away with their tails between their legs. Since then, the Lannisters and Tyrells had kept themselves safe in their three havens: King's Landing, Highgarden and Casterly Rock. Aegon used this respite to stretch his own hands across the Seven Kingdoms, taking Storms End and Dragonstone into his power, and a number of lesser households of the Reach. Storms End and Dragonstone proved only too easy to take, as Stannis was battling in the far north. Not long after his conquest, Aegon received word that Stannis had fallen – no one quite knew how: some said it were North men who killed him; some said it was the Wildlings. Some told tales of a darker nature still, of Others who come when the cold winds rise.

After gaining a solid holding of castles in the south, Aegon sent ravens to the far corners of the Kingdom, declaring himself the rightful King, Aegon Targaryen, the sixth of his name, and demanding they swear him fealty. He had sent the first round of letters not long after his conquests, when he and a majority of his host had settled in Storms End. He received no replies, and after three turns of the moon, he sent the same again to every corner, except King's Landing. He had been informed by a reliable source that the letter had been received, but that King Tommen saw no threat and deigned not to reply.

This time around he did receive a response, but only one. And not one to please him. The Greyjoy at Pyke, who has the presumption to name himself King in the North and the Iron Isles, offered him peace and alliance in return for letting him keep two of the Seven Kingdoms. Aegon didn't bother to dignify that message with a response. He had received that message six months past, and still no word from anywhere else. When Aegon had first landed in Westeros, Euron 'Crow's Eye' Greyjoy, had a strengthening hold along the Reach, as well as in the North. But when the Tyrells removed their force from King's Landing, they retook their lands with a vengeance and put a considerable dent in the Crow's Eye's numbers. From then on, the Iron Men had contented themselves with keeping control of their Northern holds. Rumour was that Euron had sent his brother to search for Daenerys – this didn't particularly worry Aegon; while Daenerys had dragons, Aegon had the better claim. And besides, she was his aunt: it would not come to bloodshed between them – they were the last Targaryens, no one wanted the other gone.

He was breaking his fast in his solar, when Jon Connington entered, unannounced.

"Your Grace," he said briskly, helping himself to mead and taking a seat. Aegon couldn't help but notice how stiffly Connington was moving. Roughly a year after landing in Westeros Aegon had discovered Jon's secret, and it wasn't long before others discovered it too. The Greyscale had gotten worse in recent months, and now covered his entire left side, though thankfully it was only now beginning to emerge above his collar. The Maesters had done what they could to ease the affliction, but there was no cure, and Aegon couldn't help but worry: This man had been with Aegon for as long as he could remember, raised him as his own son, but it was clear he was not long in this world – "I will see you sit the Iron Throne, that much I am determined on." Jon had told Aegon a few months past, and Aegon had been even more determined than ever to give Jon his wish.

"Come in, help yourself to my mead and take and seat." Aegon said with sarcasm, which was not lost on Jon, who smiled.

"I raised you as my son for near on sixteen years: the habit of familiarity is hard to break, Your Grace, forgive me." He said.

"Any ravens?" Aegon asked, as he did every morning, though he already knew the answer.

"None. I think it's safe to say we won't be receiving any either. Nothing's going to change any time soon." He sighed.

"If we could persuade the Tyrells-" Aegon started: Every morning they had a similar conversation, and every morning it went the same.

"The Tyrell girl is married to Tommen – if the Tyrells make any appearance of a move against the Lannisters, she is dead. They wont risk it." Connington said again, for what felt like the hundredth time.

"What's left of the Tully's are trying to maintain the Riverlands – I'm not sure if the presence of the Brotherhood without Banners are a help or a hindrance to them." Connington commented. Riverrun had been held by the Freys when Aegon had first landed, but in the past year it had changed hands once again: Brynden Tully had returned, with a band of outlaws behind him, and taken it back, slaying every Frey they came across, and sparing no prisoners. There were whispers he had been helped by Lady Stoneheart, but no one had confirmed it. As things stood now, the Blackfish appeared to have a strong hold, and wouldn't be loosening his grip on Riverrun any time soon. Though where the loyalties of the Brotherhood lay, no one really knew.

Aegon shook his head, "We need to approach the Brotherhood, persuade them to take our banners. It's ridiculous; do they even know whom they're fighting for anymore? The dead Usurper and his Hand? The invisible Starks? Who?" Aegon asked in frustrated rhetoric.

"We've tried, it didn't go down well, remember?" Jon reminded him. "And regardless, they're practically impossible to locate. Lady Stoneheart just seems to vanish into thin air. No, the brotherhood are out of our reach – perhaps there is someone out there who can prevail on them to fight for someone living, but until we find that miracle, we must forget them. At present they do us no harm, they keep out of the war for the Iron Throne, so even if they won't fight for us, we know they won't be fighting for the Lannisters either." Jon reminded him.

"The Eyrie?" Aegon asked then, "Do we have any idea where their loyalties lay? Have we made any headway there at all?"

"None whatsoever. Lord Petyr of Harranhal rules the sickly Lord, and while he used to be master of coin for the Usurper and the Lannister cubs, since he left King's Landing he seems to be keeping out of the conflicts. Whether that is by design, or because he is having trouble rallying the Knights of the Vale, I don't know." Connington sighed.

"The Vale have no liking for him, we've heard that rumour many a time." Aegon agreed. "Is it worth sending out envoys to the Vale, to speak to these Knights and Lords away from the Eyrie's eyes? Is the time right to risk it, do you think?" Aegon had voiced this opinion before, but it had been shouted down originally. But that had been a long time ago, fresh out of battle, with the possibilities of more skirmishes on the Horizon.

Connington thought for a moment, "We're currently in a lull – this is as peaceful as the realm is going to get." Jon said with a sigh, "You need more men to be certain of victory. Maybe now is the right time, but it is your decision Your Grace. You must have the final say." Connington said, respectfully.

"You have just as much say as me, Jon. You are still my Hand." Aegon reminded him, and then nodded thoughtfully, "I will write a handful of letters this morning, we can't sit and do nothing when we can be doing something." He decided. "What of the Crossing? Anything new there?" Aegon asked for the first time in a long time, though he had long ago despaired of the Freys.

Jon Connington snorted, "If you are relying on the Freys, your cause is lost." He said bluntly, "The Late Lord Frey will not bestir himself until he is sure of a victory. And he is forever turning his cloak – surely you remember being told of The Red Wedding?"

Aegon sighed; yes he remembered that tale vividly. "Which brings us nicely to the North," he said bitterly. "Are we never to get them on our side?"

"The North is not right without a Stark in Winterfell. Even I can see that, and I've been out of Westeros longer than you have. The North are trying to rid themselves of the Iron Men, stop the Wildlings claiming their lands, and helping the Night's Watch defend the realm against Gods know what."

"We know what they're fighting." Aegon said quietly, "We haven't seen it personally, but why would they lie?" he said, remembering the stories the Black Brother had told them when he had travelled down looking for recruits. The winter was harsh in the North: the snows were sometimes thick this far south, but according to the man of the Night's Watch, up north there had been enough snow to cover towns. And with the snows came the cold winds and with the cold winds came the walking dead, that only fire and Dragonglass could stop. Aegon had sent the Brother on with men from his dungeons, who had been taken in the skirmishes, and all the supplies he could justifiably spare.

The Black Brother had told him of the Lannisters' mocking attitude toward the Night's Watch, and how since the Starks had gone, it seemed they had nowhere to go for the assistance they needed. Aegon knew the Night's Watch took no part in the wars of the Kingdoms – but keeping them happy was bound to come in useful at some stage. The North were friendly to the Night's Watch, if Aegon offered his support and aid to the Wall, it would be something he and the North would have in common. It was an extremely long shot at forming an alliance, and it hadn't helped Stannis when he had attempted the same, but it was the best chance he had.

"We have to face it," Jon continued, snapping Aegon out of his cold reverie, "The men we have now are the only ones we have. It's time to start planning the best way to utilise them. We can keep praying for a miracle, but nothing short of a Stark who has the North at their backs, pledging you their allegiance, is going to help us now."

"The Starks are gone. Dead." Aegon snapped.

"They're not all gone." Connington countered patiently.

"Got one hidden away, have you?" Aegon shot back, losing his patience, "The girls may not be dead, but they're girls. One's a Lannister accused of murdering a King. The other, only the Gods know – half say she married Bolton and disappeared, the other half said she died not long after her father, and Bolton's wife is an impostor. No one knows what to believe."

"The Brotherhood have a third story-" Connington reminded him.

Aegon rubbed a hand over his eyes, before running it through his hair, clearly becoming irritated, "And yet their story ends the same: with Arya Stark's disappearance. I don't care about the Brotherhood, unless they start fighting Lannisters under my banner." Aegon said draining his mead, "Send Rymund for the maps, and gather the council. And summon Arianne – she will want to be a part of this."

"Speaking of Arianne," Jon said slowly, and Aegon sighed, knowing were this was going. "Doran Martell is getting restless."

"I know, he has been restless for some time." Aegon said shortly. "Does he really think I will go back on my word? I will marry her. Once I am King, and not before. Arianne is aware of this, and she even agrees with me. We must focus all our energies on taking the throne."

"I know. And I know Arianne has written as much to her father. But the fact remains, the Prince of Dorne is eager to see his daughter wed, I fear he knows he is living his last days, and wishes to see his daughter a Queen before he takes his last breath."

"Then I suppose we had better take King's Landing in a hurry." Aegon said dryly, rising from his chair, "I will write the letters to the Lords of the Eyrie, and then I shall meet you in the council chamber." Aegon declared, his tone putting an end to further discussion.

Westeros had certainly matured Aegon considerably: Looking back, he was now very aware of what a green summer child he had been. When first he had landed he had been full of pride and had been confident to the point of obnoxious. But now, fighting many battles and struggling through a war for three years had sobered him somewhat, and thanks to the good council and sound warnings of Jon Connington, Aegon had become a seasoned man, a better ruler, and would hopefully become a just and loved King, that Jon would be proud of.

An hour later Aegon entered the council chamber, to find his council already gathered around the table, waiting patiently, the maps he had requested spread out across the table, figurines already in place depicting where the many armies were currently sitting. Every figure rose at his arrival, but Aegon waved them back to their seats as he took his own seat between Jon Connington and Arianne. Also present was Marq Mandrake, Harry Strickland of the Golden Company, Haldon Halfmaester, Laswell Peake and Tristane Rivers, who were now all Lords on his council as reward for their part it besieging important holdfasts on Aegon's return to Westeros.

Three of his Kingsguard were also present: Lemore, Duck and Gorys Edoryen, who had brought the Second Sons to Aegon's cause, permanently. As they sat, Rymund – Aegon's squire – proceeded to pour them all a drink.

"I have written another set of letters," Aegon started, "To be handed to the Lords and Knights of the Vale."

"Forgive me, your Grace," Peake spoke, "But what makes you think this time it will work?"

"Because I won't be sending ravens. I'll be sending men, to deliver them and to speak on my behalf." Aegon said bluntly. "We all know of the discord spreading in the Vale: the place is isolated, and surrounded by Lannisters – is it any wonder none of them have come forward openly? The Lannisters gave them Littlefinger: with the right words in the right ears we can win them over and help rid them of their unwanted Lord Protector. Peake, Mandrake and Strickland, you will take one hundred men with you to the Vale to talk with the Lords. No doubt Littlefinger will know of your arrival and know of your purpose. But if you act fast, and quietly, you may stand a chance of turning his men before he can stop anything. " The three nodded in understanding.

"In the mean time, Rivers, we need to start devising a plan of attack on King's Landing." Aegon announced. There was a collective in-take of breath. "I know it's risky, but that's not going to change. And the men are getting restless. We have an army of five thousand here at Storms End. A year ago we had an army of six thousand, but men are returning to their homes, we waited long enough, it's time to act."

"With Lannisters at the Rock, as soon as we march they will march. They'll reach King's Landing not long after we do, then we'll have Lions front and back." Rivers pointed out.

"It's a risk," Aegon admitted, "But the Lannisters at the Rock are currently concerned with the Brotherhood without Banners, who are causing no end of problems for them. There's hope they can keep the Lions busy long enough to keep them at bay."

"That's one hell of a long shot," Strickland said, ever cautious, "If we could be sure of the Brotherhood," he started.

"Unless you can bring Ned Stark back from the dead, they will not unite for anyone, and will continue to do Lady Stoneheart's bidding. As well as protecting the Riverlands, they are also behind every Frey death that has occurred since the Red Wedding. Whoever Lady Stoneheart is, she's a friend to the Starks and the North, it would seem." Again, they were back to the futile conversation of the Starks.

"Not Lord Eddard, perhaps," Strickland said, "But his daughters may still be alive."

"His Grace and I have already had this conversation numerous times," Lord Connington sighed, "It's futile, the Starks are gone. Pray for a miracle return, by all means, but we need to find an alternative."

"What of Dorne?" Lord Tristane asked, looking Directly at Arianne. "As of yet, you father has made no move to ready the Dornish Army, yet you assure us we have their backing."

"So you do." Arianne said, "My father is weak; he can barely bestir himself, let alone make a move to bestir others and the whole of Dorne knows it. When you decide to march I will send word to Dorne and the army will strike North, have no fear." She assured.

"We can't help but be cautious: the Princess Myrcella is a guest of Dorne, I know you were once planning on crowning her the Queen on the Iron Throne." Tristane reminded her, and the room at large.

Arianne glared, with fire in her eyes, "That was before Aegon's return. Back when we all believed he was dead. Myrcella's betrothal to my brother Trystane still stands, it's true, but they will remain in Dorne – the girl may be a Lannister, but she is sweet and innocent. She has been raised alongside Trystane for the better part of six years, whatever little of her mother she had in her is long gone by now, I can assure you. Trystane will rule at Sunspear now that we know for certain Quentyn is dead, Myrcella will be his Lady, and they will be happy. Why would I fight to make Myrcella a Queen, when to do so I would have to overthrow my own Husband-to-be?" She asked. "It does not seem to benefit me in the least, it would be a folly. Myrcella is a hostage – treated as a guest, but in truth a hostage. The Lannisters will make no move against Dorne, not while we have their precious Princess, which means our Army can move in relative peace."

"When the Dornish army joins us, we may have the numbers to overpower the city. But reinforcements will be wanted from the Vale, if we can get them." Aegon said, returning back to the main reason for this meeting. "Ready your men," He looked at his three envoys, "You will leave at dawn. Take half a dozen ravens with you; send word of your progress when you believe it safe to do so. You may go." He commanded, and Peake, Mandrake and Strickland all rose to take their leave.

"You are determined, to march on King's Landing?" Tristane pressed, when the door had closed.

"I am." Aegon confirmed, "The timing is never going to be better, our Army is never going to be stronger, and the Lannisters are never going to be weaker. We either fight now, or wait and never fight at all." He said, they had finally run out of time, if they didn't make a move now, he knew they never would.

"You know battles better than anyone, Tristane. I'm counting on you to devise the best strategy to take the capitol." Aegon said.

"I best get to work then." Haldon tried to smile, but it game out as more of a grimace.

"Go to the map room, make a start." Aegon said, and then looked to Haldon Halfmaester "Haldon, go with Lord Connington to his chambers, do what you can." He turned to Jon, "There's little of import left to discuss for today, make the most of this opportunity to at least try and make yourself more comfortable." He implored his oldest friend.

"As his Grace commands." Jon sighed, raising stiffly.

"I have things to discuss with Arianne." Aegon said. "I shall see you in the hall this afternoon."

When they were finally left alone, Arianne left her seat and went down to her knees in front of Aegon. She ran her hands along his thighs, "And what might his Grace wish to discuss with me," she breathed, leaning in to kiss him.

"Your father." Aegon said bluntly, moving to stand. Arianne rolled her eyes, and stood once again.

"You certainly know how to kill a lady's mood." She told him, walking over to join Aegon at the side table where he was pouring a glass of wine. "What of my Father?"

"He wrote again-" Aegon started, but Arianne interrupted.

"To demand our Wedding take place," she finished for him, "I know. He is nothing, if not persistent. I swear this is the bravest I've known him – he's never usually this adamant or outspoken."

"We will marry. But I want to be King first." Aegon told her.

"I know you do." Arianne said. "And quite frankly, I want you to be a King first, before we marry." She said bluntly. "You are worried, aren't you?" she asked, "About Dorne's allegiance."

Aegon remained silent, taking a drink. Arianne set down her glass, took Aegon's from his hand and placed it next to hers. "Dorne is yours." She told him firmly, "Just as much as I am." She stepped towards him, running her hands up his arms, and resting them on his shoulders. "When you know what day you are to march, we will send a rider to Dorne to summon the troops. They will march and join your host, doubling it's size and the Lannisters will not stand a chance." She assured him. "We are close." She whispered, rubbing the tip of her nose against his, teasing his lips with hers. "You will be crowned King, we will marry, and the Realm will be ours."

Many a time Aegon had tried to resist her, but Arianne always knew how to make his body overrule his mind. He pulled her to him, capturing her lips with his. He knew it was wrong, knew this sort of behaviour was unacceptable before they were married, but every time he tried to tell her so, she would overrule him.

Arianne pulled back ever so slightly, "What, no objections this time?" she teased.

"I should, but I can't." Aegon admitted, "You know I'm such a fool for you. You've got me wrapped around your finger." He told her, before pulling her back to him.

* * *

**_A/N: A little bit of a filler chapter, trying to get up to date of what's been happening in Westeros for the past three/four years. Next chapter will be back to Arya, and I'll try and get it up asap._**

**_let me know what you thought, hope you weren't too disappointed that Arya or Gendry weren't in this one. Anyone find the song lyric?_**

**_xBx_**


	3. Chapter 3: Arya

**_A/N: Another speedy update - don't get used to this, I'm not usually this proficient, but I've had this story in the back of my mind for months now, so these first chapters have been dying to get out for some time I think lol_**

**_Thanks again for all my reviews, you guys are gret :) and thanks for adding me to favourites and alerts, it's awesome._**

**_Last chapter's song lyric was: 'You know I'm such a fool for you, you got me wrapped around your finger.' (Aegon says it at the end) and that was from _****Linger,******_**by **_**The Cranberries. **_**This chapter, there's a little something from **_**Fleetwood Mac******_**(yes, I have a very ecclectic music taste...this is just the beginning lol)**_

_**xBx**_

* * *

**Chapter 3: Arya**

It took a full moons turn and ten days more to sail from Braavos to Oldtown, and that was quicker than anyone could have hoped for. It seemed the Gods favoured their journey, and they sailed over relatively calm seas, with perfect winds to hurry them, and no winter storms to hinder them.

At first, all the crew were wary of Arya, unsure if she were a danger to them or not, but the longer they were at sea, they more they got to know her and the more they got to like her. On the first day, many avoided her, and Arya spent most of the time in the small cramped cabin, polishing Needle for the first time in years.

"That's some good steel you've got." Young Calloway commented.

Arya looked up, giving him an empty smile, "It is." She agreed simply.

"Where did a girl get good steel like that?" He asked shrewdly.

"My Lord Father's forge. My brother ordered it made special for me." Arya said truthfully; Calloway still didn't know her true identity, Big Al had kept his assumptions quiet, and for that Arya was grateful. "And I'm no ordinary girl." She added.

"Your _Lord Father's_ forge?" He repeated, "You're a highborn? A Lady?" He asked sounding shocked.

Arya rolled her eyes and looked back down at her work, "I am Arya Stark." She said, the words felt strange on her tongue as she had not introduced herself as such for a long, long time: She told the truth now, knowing he would find out sooner or later, and if she were going to trust anyone with her identity, what better place to start than with men of the Night's Watch, who took no part in the wars of the Seven Kingdoms.

Calloway snorted, "Pull the other one." He said. Arya looked back up at him with cold eyes and a blank expression, so that his smile faltered. Calloway looked over at Big Al who rolled his eyes and shook his head in despair at his brother's ignorance.

"You're serious?" Calloway breathed; "I beg pardon, m'lady, I never knew… never thought…" he trailed off, clearly unsure what the right thing to say was.

"It's fine, you won't be the first who doesn't believe me. I disappeared long ago, there are only a few people left who will know me." Arya returned to her sword. "And I'm not a Lady." She added.

"Right," Big Al spoke up, "You're a Princess." He reminded them all and Arya visibly scowled, but didn't respond.

"Do you know how to use a sword, milady?" Calloway asked, suddenly.

Arya looked up at him once again, and grinned, "Better than you, I'd wager." She challenged, a tiny piece of her old self coming through. "Care to test me up on deck?"

Calloway looked over at Big Al in alarm, clearly torn: did he refuse a Lady's command, or fight with a girl? Whichever way he went, it went against custom and could get him in serious trouble.

"Are you a Crow or a Chicken?" Arya goaded, standing up and walking to the door, "On deck and show me how well you can protect the realm of men." She commanded, a hint of authority finding its way into her voice.

"Best do as Lady Stark commands, son." Big Al smirked, as he lay down on the bed to rest.

Up on deck, Arya waited in her stance, the way Syrio Forel had once taught her, and Calloway reluctantly drew his sword.

"Don't go easy on me," Arya warned, feeling the tingling of adrenaline beginning to course through her; it had been so long since she had wielded Needle. After waiting long enough for Calloway to make the first move, Arya decided he was never going to make it, and lunged. Calloway blocked her hit, but lightly, and Arya knew he was holding back his strength. So she lunged at him again, this time with more force, forcing him to defend harder. She danced around him easily; all her lessons come back to her vividly, blocking every one of his cuts that he made for every ten of hers.

It wasn't long before the singing of their steel drew a crowd, and soon most of the crew were gathered around them, calling out in both the Common Tongue and Braavosi, but Arya ignored it all. The more they fought, the more Calloway let go and soon he began to give as good as he got. Out of nowhere, Arya was accosted with a memory of one of her first lessons; smiling, she began to call out where she was striking.

"Left, left, right, low, left." Arya sang in time with the steel. Calloway grinned, and Arya knew he was listening to her words more than her sword now. "Right, high, low, left, right, right, left." But this time she went right, even though she spoke left, and got the first hit, striking Calloway on his arm, cutting into his sleeve and even drawing blood. A cheer went up in the crew, and Arya took a step back, looking smug.

"You lied." Calloway accused.

"My words lied," Arya said, repeating the words Syrio had once told her, "My eyes and my arm shouted the truth. Look with your eyes." She told him.

Before he could retaliate, the captain appeared, shouting in Braavosi for his crew to get back to work, giving Arya and Galloway a quick glare as his men scattered.

"Perhaps we should leave it there for today," Arya said to Calloway, "Maybe tomorrow you will fight with your full strength from the very beginning." She told him, sheathing her blade.

"As milady commands." Calloway said with a grin, and a small bow.

"Don't say that." Arya said, her smile dropping. "Never say that to me again." She commanded, before turning away from him and moving off toward the bow.

Only one person had ever spoken those words to her in such a way: The one person she had tried the hardest to forget because remembering him hurt the most. She thought he had been her friend, her best friend, part of her pack, but he had grown tired of her in the end and left her for the Brotherhood. She had tried to forget him, tried not to think of him, but it had proven impossible – something would always happen to put him in her mind.

Movement at her side pulled her thoughts away from memories of the boy with jet-black hair and piercing blue eyes, and she turned to find one of the crew standing by her side, his was a middle-aged man, with a weather-beaten, but friendly, face.

"You dance good," he spoke in the Common Tongue, "How is it a Westerosi girl knows the Water Dance of Braavos?" He asked.

"I had a Dancing Master when I was a girl. He could only teach me for a year, but I remember it all." Arya smiled, "I tried to practice without him. And I've learnt a little more since being in Braavos."

"Braavos has been home for a long time," The sailor commented, "I hear it in your accent. How long?" He asked.

"Four years." Arya answered, this time in Braavosi, causing the sailor's smile to widen.

"You speak Braavosi, too?" He asked her, switching into Braavosi also, and Arya nodded. "I teach the captain's sons the Water Dance: every evening we have a lesson on the lower deck. Would you care to join us this evening?" He asked.

"I would be honoured, thank you." Arya responded. And so, for the first time since leaving King's Landing, Arya had regular dance lessons: every evening she and the captain's sons (Daryo and Naethanyal) would train under the guidance of Rikaro, and slowly but surely Arya felt more of her old self coming back to the surface. For the first time in years people were calling her 'Arya' or 'Lady Stark', and while at first it sounded strange, it soon began to feel somewhat normal – well, 'Arya' did at least; 'Lady Stark' would take a lot of getting used to, but as the last Stark and rightful heir of Winterfell, Arya supposed it was a title she better get used to quick. And she certainly preferred 'Lady Stark' to 'Princess Arya'.

On her first evening aboard _Summer's Snow_, The captain's youngest son, Naethanyal, gave Arya a pair of breeches and a spare tunic, they were a little big on her small frame, but they served well enough, and Arya felt more comfortable in them than the dress. She still kept the dress, however, it was the only other item of clothing she owned, barring her smallclothes, and when it came time to wash one set of garb, it would be useful to have the other at hand.

The captain's daughter, Catalina, was also on board the ship, and Arya found her to be a nice companion to have and although a young woman, she was not particularly girly: growing up on a ship, with two brothers and no mother, meant she was more like Arya than any other girl she had met. When they had first met, Catalina had stumbled upon Arya trying desperately to braid her hair tight enough that it wouldn't fall out. The winds on deck were bitter cold, and forever blowing stray locks into her face.

"May I be of assistance?" Catalina had asked, in Braavosi, for she could not speak the Common Tongue.

Arya sighed in defeat, briefly taking in Catalina's tight braid, "I was never good at doing hair. Help would be great. Thank you Catalina." She answered.

Catalina smiled, and moved behind Arya, taking up her hair and deftly running her fingers through it to untangle the mess Arya had made. "Call me Cat," she insisted, before pulling and tugging with such a force it made Arya's eyes water.

By the time cat had finished, Arya was certain that the pain she had just endured was even worse than the pain she felt when she had her face changed. But to Cat's credit, the braid staid in perfectly, and lasted a week before it needed to be redone.

During her days on the ship, Arya would spend a lot of time with Catalina, teaching her the common tongue, and soon enough she began teaching some of the crew as well. She also taught Calloway and Big Al a few words and phrases of Braavosi, so that they could understand at least some of what the crew were saying. She joined in with Dario, Naethanyal and some of the crew in playing dice and throwing daggers on an evening – often winning a fair amount of coin and hitting the target better than most.

One of the crew asked her if she could shoot a bow and arrow, to which she responded, "Better than you, I would imagine," the same way she had to Calloway. The man had taken her up on deck, and given her his bow to try, and she struck the target dead centre with her first arrow, and hit the same spot with her second arrow, splitting her first in two. After that, she had been taught how to shoot a gull at the perfect time so that it would land on the deck and not in the sea. Roasted gull was considered a delicacy on board the _Summer's Snow_, as only a handful of archers could aim with such perfection so as not to lose a quarrel and a bird into the ocean. Arya mastered the art with ridiculous speed: she had been taught much and more as an apprentice of the Faceless Men, and speed and precision came naturally to her now. Every gull she aimed for she hit, and every hit landed on the deck. But on her third attempt, she displayed just how good she truly was.

"Now, Lady Arya." One of the crew said, "Loose now, or you'll lose her."

"Not yet," Arya said slowly, following the gull, a breath later she loosed: she aimed it just right and the gull landed right in front of her feet. "Beat that." She said to Grynn, who had been teaching her, with a smug look on her face.

"I don't think anyone can, My Lady." Grynn said with a smile, "I fear it would only end in embarrassment if I try." He admitted, and Arya knew he was telling the truth, not simply flowering his words to flatter a lady.

The crew soon knew her well enough to know, that while she was technically a Lady, she certainly didn't act like one, and they therefore didn't really treat her like one, and for that Arya was thankful. During the voyage, Grynn had made her a bow of her own after showing such splendid skill, and taught her how to fletch her own arrows. And when the ship had pulled into the Whispering Sound, making it's way up to port, he had given her a quiver of fifty arrows already made, and a small purse full of an hundred more arrow heads,

"Find some good steel for your next lot, and an even better smith to hone them. Your fletching is good, make sure you never lose that skill." Grynn told her. "And practice this as often as you do your sword."

Throughout the journey, the captain and some others had also given her the odd gift: After seeing how comfortable she seemed to be in boys garb, Naethanyal had given her another set of breeches and a tunic, which Cat happily sewed up to fit her perfectly. Cat also gave her one of her dresses; it was plain and thick, but the colour was a steely grey, the perfect match to Arya's eyes. And Cat had rightly pointed out that, while Arya was more comfortable in breeches, it was sometimes easier to get what one wants when dressed as a woman. Rikaro had given her some boiled leathers to wear while they trained, and had told her to keep them, as well as a silver dagger with a coral handle.

"You were born to be a fighter, girl," Rikaro told her only a week into the voyage, "That much is plain to see. If you are going to fight, it's best you have the right garb. We have no spare mail and plate to offer, but boiled leather will serve as well for now."

And the captain had given her something of sentimental value: his bird. It was apparently a raven – though not any kind of raven Arya had ever seen as it was neither black nor white. It was grey, the same grey as that on House Stark's sigil, and the bird had taken an instant liking to Arya, much to the captain's amusement and everyone's surprise.

"He hates everyone, that bird does." He had warned Arya, the first time she had come across it, her first week aboard ship. Cat, who had asked her to eat with her and teach her the Common Tongue, had invited her into the captain's quarters, and the bird had squawked particularly loudly at her entrance.

"What bird is he?" Arya asked.

"A raven. Though a freak of one, I admit: too big, and the wrong colour." The captain had said, "I can shut his cage if he bothers you?" he suggested.

Arya shrugged, "Makes no matter to me." She had said, moving over to the table where Cat was sat. No sooner had she taken her seat, than the bird had stretched it's wings, gave a squawk, and flown from it's cage to land on Arya's shoulder, much to everybody's surprise.

Arya turned her head to look at the bird, which cocked it's head and looked back. "Corn." The bird spoke, much like the ravens at Winterfell used to do – though this bird spoke Braavosi.

"I thought he hated everyone?" Arya asked, looking back to see the Captain and Cat looking slightly dumbfounded.

"He does," Cat said, "I've never seen him do that before."

"I need to return to the deck," The captain said, leaving the girls after giving the bird one last surprised look.

From then on, the raven took to leaving the Captain's quarters more often, finding it's way to Arya, on whose shoulder it now spent most of it's time. Halfway into the voyage, Arya wondered if slipping into the bird's skin would be as easy as when she had done it with the cats in Braavos. It was certainly a strange sensation at first: with Nymeria, the bond they shared was such that slipping into her skin felt almost natural, but there was no such bond between her and the bird, and as such it's skin felt foreign to her. But with enough practice it soon became more natural, and by the end of the voyage she had become so confident with consciously slipping her skin that she even began consciously reaching out to Nymeria.

Arya discovered quickly enough that distance was an important factor in slipping one's skin: while slipping into Nymeria was easy when she dreamt, reaching out in her waking hours was difficult at first, despite the strong bond she knew they shared. But before long, she had mastered it, and every afternoon she would sit below decks and practice slipping her skin, seeing through the eyes of Nymeria for an hour, before reaching out to the bird, which she would send flying over the ship and through the rigging.

No one on the ship was aware of what she was doing, and she preferred to keep it that way. The black brothers, she supposed would not be to phased, especially not after coming face to face with the Others and White Walkers, but regardless, Arya didn't want to risk it.

When _Summer's Snow_ finally came within sight of land, and began to push up the Whispering Sound, Arya felt the first fluttering of nerves in her stomach. She had never been to Oldtown, she knew the Hightowers were the family that held the seat in Oldtown, and they were supposed to be loyal to the Tyrells of Highgarden – that much she remembered from her lessons. But after the War of the Five Kings, Arya had no idea how anything stood right now. She had asked Big Al just this morning, about who was sworn to whom in the realm nowadays, but he could give little information.

"As to that, I couldn't tell you. Sorry My Lady, but when you reach the North, you'll understand why matters south of the Neck are ignored by the Nights Watch." He told her, not unkindly.

"How long will you be staying in Oldtown?" She had asked then.

Big Al shrugged, "However long it takes Sam to ready his things and leave. We'll not stay longer than a week, that I can promise." He said.

"Would you permit me to travel a way with you? After all, we are both headed north, and some company would be welcome." She asked.

"Of course, My Lady." Big Al said, "If you don't mind my asking, what do you plan to do?" he asked slowly.

Arya sighed, she had thought about it long and hard: to take back Winterfell and the North she would need an army. But finding an army would not be easy, and finding the right place to start was harder still. "First, I need to discover how the land lays: Who is sworn to who. I'll need to distinguish between those who would welcome me and help me, from those who would turn me over to Queen Cersei."

They came upon the port as the sun was setting, she and the two brothers were gathered at the rails, all their belongings in hand ready to disembark. Arya had her cloak fastened around her shoulders, her spare garments rolled up in thick sleeping furs that had been another gift. The dagger and Needle were fastened at her waist, and the grey raven perched on her shoulder. As _Summer's Snow_ was pulled into port, the full enormity of what she was about to do began to sink in, and for the first time she fully accepted that she was now Lady Stark of Winterfell.

"Winter is Coming." She whispered to the wind, and anyone who cared to hear. And suddenly, another memory came upon her, clear as day;

"Ser Gregor," she whispered, the names coming back to her as if it were only yesterday that she last spoke them, "Dunsen, Raff the Sweetling, Ser Illyn, Ser Meryn, Queen Cersei." She paused for a second, and then added two more names to the list. "Lord Walder, Theon Greyjoy. Valar Morghulis." She finished, running her thumb over Needle's hilt.

When Arya disembarked, many bid her farewell, and asked that she remember them kindly. She smiled and thanked them all, for bringing her safely home and for her gifts. When she finally set foot on Westerosi land she took a deep breath, the fluttering in her stomach multiplying. She reached out to Nymeria, feeling her presence somewhere in this land_I'm back, Nymeria_ She thought, wondering if the Direwolf would hear her, _I've returned. Will you ever find me?_ She wondered.

She followed Big Al and Calloway away from the pier, drawing up her hood as she went. Crunching through the fine layer of snow, they made their way to the inn that sat in the middle of the Honeywine, which wound through the city. Just as they stepped foot off the bridge, and were about to enter into the Quill and Tankard, the woods on the other side of the river erupted with the howling of wolves.

All three stopped and turned their heads toward the sound, just as a man left the inn.

"Seven hells," the man exclaimed, upon opening the door. Behind him the inn fell quiet, listening to the howling. "I haven't heard wolves howl like that for years." He slurred, before taking himself off along the bridge.

Arya allowed herself a smile, _It's as if they're welcoming me home_, she thought, before following the brothers into the inn, where she finally let down her hood and revealed her face. The conversation that had started to pick up, once again dropped, as many of the patriots took in Arya's appearance from top to bottom. She tried not to feel too conscious, but it was difficult: Big Al had already told her she was the image of her Aunt Lyanna - were these people under the impression a ghost had just come through the door?

Before she could let the whispers faze her, a woman came towards them, "Can I help you?" She asked with a polite smile.

"A couple of rooms if you have them? And some ale all round would be good." Big Al asked.

"I can manage that, if you got the silver for it, mind." The woman said. Arya reached into the purse hidden in her cloak and fished out the required amount, ignoring the objections of the other two.

"You're allowing me to travel with you for a good part of your journey." Arya said, "And after everything the Watch has done for me, this is the least I can do." She told them, remembering Yoren from long ago.

"My name's Emma," the woman smiled, "I've been running the place a couple of years now. Let me bring you that ale, you three take a seat." She said, turning back to the bar.

The three made their way to a table in a corner with a good view of the door. When Emma returned, she gave Arya a searching look.

"My I ask what a young woman like yourself is doing with two men of the Night's Watch?" She asked carefully.

Arya smiled that serene smile that she had perfected in Braavos; "We travelled on the same galley from Braavos." She said simply, and Emma gave her a confused and surprised look.

"You have a Braavosi tone to your voice," Emma said with surprise. "But you look like-" she stopped herself.

"Like who?" Arya asked, still smiling.

Emma shook her head. "Never mind, it's not my place." She said, "Can I get you anything else?" She asked politely.

"Information would be good." Big Al asked, "We're looking for a Maester, recently trained."

"Well, you've come to the right place," Emma laughed, "The citadel is full of 'em! Or are you looking for one in particular?"

Big Al nodded, "His name is Sam. Sam Tarly. He's already a sworn Brother so he will be the only Maester all in black." He told her.

Emma nodded, "Big lad?" she queried, and Big Al nodded, "I seen him, comes in here regular with another 'prentice who goes by the name of Pate. Stay where you are, you'll probably see them tonight. When you're ready for your rooms,either me or my daughter Rosey, will show you the way." And with that Emma disappeared. As promised, they had been sat less than half an hour when the man Arya recognised from Braavos years ago entered the inn in the company of a pale young man who looked barely older than twenty and had a rather pasty face.

"Slayer!" Calloway called out, causing Sam to start and look around. When he spotted his brothers in black, he smiled and waddled over.

"Jon sent word to expect you, but I didn't think you'd be here so soon." Sam said as he took a seat, finally noticing Arya. "Have we met?" He asked, "You look familiar?"

"This is-" Calloway began, but Arya spoke over him.

"We met briefly when you came to Braavos." She said, "Cat of the canals I was called." Arya then looked at Calloway with warning, subtly shaking her head. He frowned but thankfully didn't elaborate on what he was about say.

"Oh, yes." Sam smiled, looking slightly nervous, "I think I remember you."

As Sam had been walking to their table, Arya's attention had been focused on Pate: there was something about him that didn't sit right, but she couldn't quite place it. One of the many things she had learnt in Braavos was how tell the face from the man beneath, and while she wasn't an expert at it, she knew enough to recognise that the face of Pate did not belong to the man beneath. Who the man beneath was, she didn't know and until she could ascertain how much of a threat he was she intended on keeping her name to herself.

As if sensing her thoughts, Pate smiled, "A girl has many names." He said at her, and while the accent was Westerosi, there was a stirring of something underneath the tones that Arya found familiar.

_It can't be,_ she thought. "Many and more." Arya spoke aloud, then feeling reckless she added: "Much the same as a man has many faces."

Pate smiled at that, "A boy becomes a girl, a girl disappears and returns a woman. But still she is that fierce little wolf she always was, perhaps even fiercer than before."

"Time makes you bolder, even children get older." She said, ignoring the questioning looks of the others, her attention wholly on the man in front of her now. She knew it was he, but she still had to ask. "Jaqen?" She whispered.

Pate smiled, "Jaqen is dead, girl, this you already knew. He is as dead as Arry. Now tell me, where is it that Arya Stark has been hiding these past four years?"

Arya scowled, ignoring the wide-eyed look of wonderment from Sam.

"Arya? Jon's little sister?" Sam asked with something close to awe in his voice.

Arya looked at Sam, "Forgive me for holding back, I was unsure of your companion." She told him, with an apologetic smile.

"Sam," Pate spoke, "Why don't you go see about some food?" he suggested. "I'm sure your brothers will assist you."

"Oh, alright." Sam said, sounding unsure, but he left his seat. Big Al and Calloway looked to Arya, who nodded telling them she was perfectly safe.

When the were left alone, Arya looked at Pate, or Jaqen, or whoever he was, "I went to Braavos. You told me if I ever wanted to find you again, to give that coin to a man of Braavos and he would take me where I needed to go." She reminded him, accusingly.

"And you have found me, have you not?" Pate smiled, though he was beginning to sound more like Jaqen with every speech.

"Yes," Arya admitted ruefully, "But not in Braavos. Have you been here the whole time?"

"You needed to go to Braavos to learn." Pate explained patiently, "Tell me, would a girl have recognised a man as a lost friend if she had not learnt all she has learnt in Braavos?" He asked.

Arya thought, and realised he was right. Pate spoke again, "You wear Arya Stark's face."

"Because it is my own." Arya said.

"But you have worn others," Pate said with a smile, "Did you learn to change as once you saw Jaqen change?"

Arya shook her head, "I left before I could master it." She admitted. "What do you know of the wars in Westeros? Who fights for whom at the moment?" She asked him.

Pate smiled a knowing smile, as if he heard the question she really wanted to ask, "I know that the young Dragon has a strong army. I know that the Lions will soon lose the throne. And I also know that the wolves howled for the first time in four years this evening and if a girl looks carefully she will find many friends in this city." He told her.

Arya frowned, "What do you mean?" she asked warily, just as the others returned with trenchers of stew.

"Can I ask, where you've been My Lady, were you always in Braavos?" Sam asked as he retook his seat, "Jon thought you were in the North somewhere, we all did. How did you escape Bolton?"

"I never married Bolton. That was never me." Arya said shortly, tucking into her food. "Where I was does not matter right now. What matters is that I have returned. I plan to take back Winterfell, and for that I need friends." She said, quietly so that only those sharing her table could hear.

"I know a few people in Oldtown who came down from the North when the snows began to get too bad," Sam said innocently, "They're always nicer to me than other people are: I find that a lot, that people of the North tend to be more friendly to the Watch than those in the South. If you like, I could introduce you to some, or rather introduce them to you." He offered.

Arya smiled, "Thank you, Sam."

Sam was as good as his word: they only stayed in Oldtown four days, but in that time Arya found herself being approached at the inn by a number of curious Northerners, who had been sent there by Sam and Pate. Many were common folk, from small towns and villages, who had stayed together to escape the worst of the winter and the Iron Islanders. But there were also a few members of the lesser houses whose names Arya recognised and by the time she was ready to leave the city, the Knotts, Liddles, Norreys and Wulls had already sworn their swords to her and vowed by the Old Gods and the New, to fight with her to take back Winterfell and the North.

Within a couple of days of arriving at Oldtown, whispers began to spread that the Ghost of Lyanna Stark had been seen at the Quill and Tankard, and this helped draw out more Northern men than even Sam knew were hiding in Oldtown. It also drew a certain Maester, with a newly forged chain, to visit the inn with Samwell the night before they were intending to leave. He was rather small, and very skinny, though not unhealthy looking. He had brown hair and green eyes, and Arya thought his look familiar somehow, though she couldn't place it.

"You look exactly as my Uncle described Lyanna to have looked." He had said when they met. "If you would permit me, I would be honoured to leave with you on the Morrow and serve as your Maester." He said.

"Who are you?" Arya asked, wary. Although Maesters were supposed to shed their surnames, the last thing she wanted was this man to be a member of some house sworn to the Lannisters or Greyjoys.

"Mathos Reed." He smiled, and Arya returned it. "My Uncle is Howland Reed, of Greywater Watch."

"I would be happy to have you with me," Arya said, "No doubt we will need your expertise along the way. But it will be a long road." She warned. "We set forth at noon."

And so they had: with the silver Arya had earned in Braavos, and some of the coin she had won on board _Summer's Snow_, she had managed to acquire a decent horse and some passable plate and mail. It wasn't brilliant, but it would serve for now. She had also been gifted a longsword by one of her men, which she now had strapped to her back as she was too short to carry it at her hip, where Needle sat on her left and the dagger on her right. Her bow and arrows hung from her saddle on one side, a pack containing the sleeping furs, spare clothes and food hung from the other.

She mounted her horse and turned to survey the men behind her who had promised to follow and fight for her. She was surprised at the size; already she thought she was close to an hundred men. And what was more surprising was the number on horseback, almost half.

"I can not promise you a safe and easy journey. Westeros is in the grip of Winter, our way is long and hard. But if you're with me, I can promise that what we will gain will be worth it. Let us show Westeros the real meaning of Winter!" She called out, and was heartened by the shouts of 'Winter is Coming!' that were returned to her.

She looked back to her companions who would be riding at her side: Big Al, Calloway and Maester Mathos were smiling at her, Sam just looked nervous, but he managed a small smile.

As they left the city, Arya caught a glimpse of Pate in the shadows of the city walls; he gave her a nod and a wink before disappearing.

Their journey was long, but not uncomfortable. Despite the cold, the snows were not too deep this far south, which meant their pace was fairly efficient. They travelled along the Roseroad for a time, but turned off before they could reach Highgarden, choosing to take the country roads through small towns on their way to Storms End.

Arya had soon learnt that Prince Aegon was rallying his armies their, ready to take King's Landing. She had also learnt that he had tried to make a much needed alliance with the North, but that the North were too busy fighting themselves and Wildlings to help. Arya also knew the North need a Stark to unite them – that was, after all, the reason she had returned to Westeros. Arya needed men to help her take back the North; Aegon needed the support of the North to help take the throne – Arya was sure they could come to some sort of agreement.

And so she had decided to go to Storms End. The Brothers had decided to join her on the journey, hoping to take new recruits from Prince Aegon's dungeons, and trying to convince any lads they came across along the way to take the black.

The group had one large canvas tent between the lot of them, and every night they all slept under it, sharing body heat, with a large fire burning at the mouth. Arya took her fair share of watches, tended the fire if needed and even helped cook what food they had. Many of her men were shocked at first, and tried to treat her as a 'real Lady.' But they soon learnt that Arya Stark, though a Princess of the North, and a Lady of Winterfell, was more of a Lord, and they respected her more for it.

A week into their march, they came across a frozen stream. Upon breaking the ice, they found the water to be flowing fast beneath and after filling up their water skins a few men who could, fished the stream and found it to be generous with its spoils. That night, after making her round of the camp she found Sam near the fire, struggling with a fish.

"Here," Arya said, kneeling beside him, "Let me." She took the fish, de-boned it and filleted it with perfect precision speed.

"Where did you learn to do that?" Sam asked, clearly impressed.

"I've been in hiding many years, and I've had to learn many things to survive." Arya told him truthfully. "Why do they call you Sam the Slayer?" She asked him, curiously. She had heard the nickname many a time, but she didn't know the story and it confused her: Sam had already confessed he was a craven, so the name didn't seem to fit.

"I stabbed an Other with an obsidian dagger. It destroyed the Other, so now they call me Slayer. Even though it was the dagger that slew it, not me." He told her.

"That doesn't sound like something a Craven would do." Arya pointed out, "You're braver than you think Sam." She told him. "Being brave isn't about not being afraid. A man is at his bravest when he's most afraid." She said, remembering something she had heard her Father once say, "Doing something even though you're afraid to do it, that's what bravery is."

"You sound like Jon," Sam said, "He tries to tell me the same thing. You look like him too. I can't believe I didn't see it, when I first saw you in Braavos." Arya smiled at that. "He misses you the most, you know. Jon does. He told me you were his favourite sibling." Sam said after a moment.

"Jon was always my favourite, too." Arya said, "I looked more like him than my other siblings, and he seemed to understand me more than the others. I miss him the most too. He gave me Needle." She said suddenly, looking at Sam and grinning.

"Needle?" He frowned.

"My sword. He had it made in secret, even father didn't know." She admitted, "I will see him again." She said adamantly, "Tell him that, when you see him. Tell him I still have my Needle and I will see him again."

"I'll tell him." Sam agreed, before moving off to the fire to cook the fish Arya had prepared. Arya continued sitting there, her grey raven coming to perch on her shoulder.

"Don't be annoying too many people," she warned him, having noticed that he had spent a lot of evening pecking at the men's feet looking for food, "Otherwise you'll find yourself being cooked over the fire, in place of the fish." Arya glanced around: she was alone for now.

Every evening, she would slip her skin and enter Nymeria's mind, and every evening she would see different scenery. She tried to communicate with Nymeria, telling her to bring her pack South: Arya needed Nymeria with her on her journey, and she was trying her hardest to make it happen. Every evening Arya would focus on the land surrounding her, willing Nymeria to see her surroundings so that she might find her better.

Every night for three weeks, Arya went through the same process, and by the end of the three weeks, she was hopeful it was working: When Arya had been aboard the ship; Nymeria was pushing through snow that almost reached her belly. Now, however, the snow was thinner on the ground: she had come south, that much was certain.

Halfway into their fourth week of travel, as they were readying camp for the night, the horses began making a nervous ruckus: whinnying and stomping their feet. In the woods near them they could hear a couple of wolves howling and Arya felt excitement coursing through her veins. Immediately she slipped her skin, and went into Nymeria's mind. Through Nymeria's eyes she saw a fire burning, she saw men moving around it, she saw horses tethered to nearby trees.

Wrenching her eyes open Arya moved quickly towards the trees.

"Be careful, My Lady." Mathos called, "Something's got the horses spooked, and can you hear the wolves?"

"Stay your weapons!" Arya called, loud and clear, noticing many of her men had drawn their swords, "I know what's out there, and I can promise you, she will not harm you."

She stood at the edge of the tree line, looking through the branches. She saw movement, and soon enough a pair of yellow eyes moved toward her, and out of the shadows moved a wolf, bigger than any Arya had ever seen. She was almost as big as Arya's horse, she moved warily, and Arya took a steady step forward, holding out her hand.

"Nymeria." She whispered, "It's me."

Suddenly, the wolf lunged, bounding into Arya and flinging her to the ground. Shouts rose in the camp, but Arya managed to shout out: "Stand down! Stand down!"

Her men soon realised that Arya was laughing, that the Direwolf was licking her face and neck as the pair rolled and wrestled in the snow. "I'm sorry I made you leave, Nymeria," Arya said, "I'm so sorry! Seven Hells! I've missed you." And for the first time in four years, a single tear escaped.

* * *

**_A/N: Ok, so that ended up being longer than planned, but the words just kept flowing. Let me know what you thought, and next chapter we venture into the Riverlands. Yep, that's right, we get to see our favourite Blacksmith. I'm excited :)_**

**_If you want to keep track with next chapter's progress, you can follow me on twitter CelticPagan3_**

**_xBx_**


	4. Chapter 4: Gendry

**_A/N: Another fairly speedy update, I'm dreading when my muse takes some time out, and it will be a week or so between updates lol_**

**_Thanks for all my reviews - I couldn't reply to all of them, but I did read every single one, so thank you :)_**

**_shout out to Mariion, who found the lyric in last chapter which was_****'Time makes you bolder, even children get older,'**_**taken from **_**Landslide**_**, by **_**Fleetwood Mac.**_**This chapter's lyric is from a **_**U2 **_**song.**_

_**Hope you enjoy**_

_**xBx**_

* * *

**Chapter 4: Gendry**

He had been in the forge when he heard the noise; just as the sun was about to disappear below the horizon, the woods surrounding the Inn at the crossroads erupted with howls that continued well into the night. He had never heard the wolves howl like that, not for years now. When he thought of it, the last time he had heard the wolves howl so loud, _she_ had still been with him. He put down his hammer and stepped outside, welcoming the sound that sent shivers down his spine. Was this some sort of sign? Or was he just clutching at the faintest of hopes that allowed him to continue believing she was out there, somewhere, alive.

The more weeks that had passed since her disappearance, the more is seemed ridiculously optimistic to believe her alive, but he just couldn't accept the possibility that she might be dead. They had found no evidence of her death, and besides she had already proven time and time again her uncanny ability for escaping, for disappearing and taking on a new identity. No, she was alive. She had to be.

Gendry returned to the forge, hammering away at the steel he was making into a sword. It was noisy work, but it didn't drown out the sound of the wolves, and nor did it stop his mind from wandering. He had been at the Inn for four years now, possibly longer, he wasn't too sure. He had found this place, with Harwin, Thoros and Anguy, when they had been following the trail of the Hound and Arya. To this day, Gendry could not forgive himself for letting her go that night and he hated himself for making her angry. That hadn't been his intention, when he had joined the brotherhood; he hadn't done it to leave her, he had done it so that he might be able to stay with her. Looking back now, he realised what a stupid decision that had been, but back then he was just a boy - _a stupid bull-headed boy_, Arya's voice chastised him. Oh, if only she could know just how right she had been. He had thought himself a man grown, but in truth he had still been a boy, he made a bad decision and made the only person he cared about turn away from him. And then Thoros had told her they would not be taking her Riverrun:

_She stormed out, running out into the rain and Gendry automatically called out to her, wanting her to come back where it was safe and warm. He made to follow, his instinct taking over, but Harwin put a hand on his shoulder and stopped him._

_"Leave her be, lad" Harwin said, gently, "She'll calm down in an hour and she'll come back."_

_"It's pitch black out, it's not safe out there," Gendry had argued._

_"We have lookouts. No one will get close enough to harm her." Harwin assured him._

_"That's what you thought the other day, and the Hound found his way back to us." Gendry reminded him, throwing off Harwin's hand and stepping out into the rain._

Gendry pounded the steel harder, letting out his frustration at the memory: if only he hadn't let Harwin detain him; if he had ignored him and followed his own instinct, he would have been closer to her. But instead:

_He had only taken three steps when an ear-piercing scream ripped through the air. His heart stopped for a brief moment, but his feet moved of their own accord, taking him in the direction of the scream. When he rounded the stables he saw what had transpired: large hoof-prints were clearly visible in the mud; he could also see the small footprints, where Arya had walked, but they ended near the hoof prints. And in between the prints of horse and girl the ground was churned up more than it should be, as if there had been a struggle. Without thinking he turned to the stable and yelled at the boy to get him a horse, within moments he was mounted and tearing off into the woods, in the general direction of the hound. It wasn't long before he heard the sound of hoof beats coming up behind him, and soon enough Harwin was coming up alongside him._

_"You'll do more harm than good trying to find them in this." Harwin yelled over the rain and the thunder, "There's no way we'll find them in the dark. We'll set out at first light. We'll find her, Gendry."_

_Gendry hadn't wanted to stop, but in his heart of hearts he knew Harwin was right,_

_"How did he get through? Again!" Gendry asked, trying desperately not to lose it, the rain running down his face, making it look like he was crying._

_Harwin shifted in his saddle, "It doesn't matter now-" He started, but Gendry shouted over him_

_"How!" Gendry demanded, anger rising in him._

_"One of the lookouts fell asleep-" That was all Gendry needed to hear, and he turned his horse around and galloped back the way he had come, ignoring Harwin's shouts._

_When he reached the outskirts of the camp again, he soon found the boy who had fallen asleep on duty: it was the same lad that had let the Hound slip through the time before, and he was looking ashamed and confused all at the same time. Gendry jumped from his horse, leaving it to fend for itself, and stormed over to the boy. Before the lad could utter a word, Gendry's fist made contact with his face with such force that his nose shattered, sending blood spurting everywhere, and the lad fell to the ground._

_"What the hell is wrong with you!?" Gendry yelled, pulling the lad back to his feet just so he could knock him down again,_

_"Twice you've failed at your duty and now she's gone!" He continued yelling as he beat the boy bloody, letting out all his rage and frustration. It had taken three men to pull Gendry off, and by the time they did, the boy was sobbing in a heap on the ground, his face and body bruised and bloodied._

_"What the hell is wrong with you, boy!?" Harwin yelled at him, "Pull yourself together! It's done now, no use placing blame!" Gendry jerked himself free of his restraints and stormed back under cover._

_If truth be told, he didn't truly blame the lad, he blamed himself for letting her out of his sight. The others couldn't understand what he was feeling in that moment, they hadn't heard her scream. And it hadn't been any of_their_names that Arya had screamed out. No, it was his name she had shouted; he was the one she had called for to help, and he had been too far away to do anything about it._

Gendry let out a frustrated growl as the memory accosted him: he had been pounding the steel too hard, letting out the anger he still felt at that memory. Tossing the ruined steel back into the melting pot and throwing down his hammer, he walked back out into the snow and took a deep calming breath, but the memories continued to flow.

_They had set out the next morning, all of them, heading North to the twins. They knew there was to be a wedding, and that the Freys and the Tullys were to join their houses. They figured that would be where the Hound was taking Arya. They were hindered by the constant rain, and could only pray that the Hound was being hindered too. They traced them to the crossing at the Trident, and followed. They were nearing the Twins when news came upon them of the Red Wedding; Gendry had nearly lost it when they were told the story, but he managed to keep it together._

_"She's still alive." He had said stubbornly, "If they had made it, they would have known her to be there, and we would know of her death." He could tell Harwin wanted to believes his words, but he could also tell that Lord Beric and Thoros were hesitant to believe him. They soon discovered a witness who had seen the Hound leaving the scene, with a young boy over his horse. They discussed where he might be going and had decided he would have either made for the Eyrie, to ransom Arya back to her Aunt, or gone looking for a ship at Saltpans or Maidenpool in an attempt to flee the country: Westeros wasn't exactly safe for the Hound at the moment. So they turned their steeds around and began back the way they had come._

_Not long after, they came upon Catelyn Stark's body: it had been washed up onshore and they had reached her just in time, before the wolves had started to feast. The wolf nearest the body was the biggest Gendry had ever seen - twice the size of a normal wolf. He had expected it to attack, but to his surprise it had just turned and disappeared back into the woods. He watched as Lord Beric gave his life to Lady Catelyn, the memory still made him shiver: he couldn't explain what he had witnessed that day, but felt sure it wasn't Godly. He had remained with Lady Stark for about a week, though she now called herself Lady Stoneheart. Arya had never spoken much about her mother, but from what little she had said, Gendry was unsure if Lady Stoneheart retained much of Catelyn Tully. Lady Stoneheart was consumed with seeking revenge. She had smiled, when she had been told that Arya was still alive and that the Brotherhood had seen her until recently. As Gendry had been the one who was with her since leaving King's Landing, it fell to him to tell Lady Stoneheart what had transpired – though he left out a lot of details: like the fact that her daughter had killed more men than a girl of one and ten ever should._

_Lady Stoneheart had thanked him, for taking care of her daughter, which only made Gendry hate himself more: if he had truly taken care of her, like he once vowed he would, she would still be at his side. With Lord Beric dead – this time, well and truly gone, never coming back – The brotherhood rallied around Lady Stoneheart as their new leader. But what surprised Gendry most, was Lady Stoneheart's determination to remain in the Riverlands and exact revenge on the Freys, instead of looking for her daughter. Instead she sent Harwin, Thoros and Gendry to continue their search. Gendry had gone, more than willingly – he would have gone without her orders – but from that day on, he could never like Lady Stoneheart, regardless of who she had been before she died._

_They soon picked up the Hound's trail, coming across the newly re-built town that he had helped build. Gendry had almost cried with relief when they told them of the girl travelling with him; she matched Arya's description in every way, and they were positive they were catching them. They continued on their way, following the direction the townsman pointed them, and soon they came upon the Inn at the Crossroads._

_When they entered it was to find a young girl, on her knees, scrubbing the floor, trying to get rid of a large red stain that could only be blood. Gendry had paled at the sight of it, sudden panic taking hold. The girl had looked up when they had entered, and told them harshly to leave their weapons at the door._

_"Who?" Gendry had asked, looking at the stain, but not able to form a full sentence._

_"The Hound" the girl had scowled, and Gendry could scarce breath. He felt Harwin's hand on his shoulder, as Harwin asked the question Gendry was dreading to hear the answer to; "Whose blood?"_

_"Some soldier or other," she shrugged, "The hound killed three of 'em. But he and his little girl walked away."_

_Gendry's knees gave way with relief at that point, and he sat on the nearest bench, running shaking hands through his hair in relief. "Where did they go?" He demanded._

_"How in seven hells should I know?" the girl had snapped, "As long as they don't come back."_

_"Please," Gendry had said, his voice coming out strangled and sounding almost like he was begging. The girls face had softened at the sight, and she sighed._

_"He was asking questions about ships. From what I heard, they discussed Saltpans. Try there." She told them._

_They had left that instant, riding hard to the Saltpans; Arya and the Hound had left the Inn three days ago, they were so close. Along the road they found the Hound. Dead. But they also found a set of hoof prints carrying on down the road: the hound had not yet started to decay, he could barely have been dead a day, they were sure, even the crows hadn't got to him yet. And the prints were fresh; they were so close, but yet so far._

_They reached Saltpans quick enough, and when they began asking if anyone had seen a girl matching Arya's description they discovered someone who looked like her had sold her horse at the stables two days ago, and was planning on taking a ship. That was all they could discover – Gendry trailed up and down the docks asking anyone and everyone, but while a handful recalled a girl of her description, no one could tell him what ship she had taken nor where she had gone._

_Eventually, he gave up: she had obviously found a passage, but to where he would never know. And so they had returned to the Inn at the Crossorads, where they spent the night, and Gendry drank more ale than he had ever done in his lifetime, to try and quell the rage and self-hatred stirring inside him._

_Come the morning Gendry had decided to stay: as well as they young girl – Jeyne, he soon discovered she was called – there were a number of orphans, and no men. They had a forge, he could earn some money from people passing through, fixing swords, mending armour, shoeing horses and what not. He never openly admitted the real reason he stayed though, he barely even admitted it to himself: this was the last place Arya had certainly been, and he couldn't leave._

Gendry sighed, running his hands over his face and through his hair. He leaned back against the wall of the forge and stared out into the night. The sun had fully set now, and the stars were beginning to come out. It was freezing cold, but there was no snow – for which Gendry was thankful, the roads were near enough impassable as it was.

"I thought to find you in the Godswood." Jeyne's voice called out, as she crunched her way through the snow to his side, pulling him from his unhappy reverie.

"I'm about to go." He said. He never knew this place had a Godswood until just over a moons turn ago, when a Northern man had been passing through and had asked. When Jeyne had showed the guest, Gendry had followed: the snow had stopped for the first time in weeks, it was a moonless night, and for the first time in his life Gendry knelt in front of a wierwood and prayed.

"The wolves distracting you?" Jeyne asked, "I wish they'd be quiet, they're scaring some of the younger ones. Have you ever heard them howl like that?" She asked.

"Once," Gendry admitted, remembering the howls he had heard around the time of the Red Wedding. "But it was different." He frowned.

"Different?" Jeyne asked.

"That time, their howls were full of grief," He remembered, thinking back to how those howls had almost echoed the heart-wrenching pain he had been feeling at the time. "Full of pain and loss. But this is different: this is," he paused, thinking, a pained expression on his face, "It's like a rallying cry, almost? Like their calling out for others to join them." He shrugged, "I don't know. But they'll stop soon, they'll move off."

Jeyne laughed, "You talk wolf now, do you?" she joked. To this day she did not know whom the girl was that Gendry had come here looking for, and Gendry had never told her, so she had no idea that wolves, to Gendry, meant Arya.

Gendry pushed himself away from the wall, "I'm going to the Godswood. I'll come in later." He said, making to leave.

"You pray for her, don't you?" Jeyne said suddenly, her voice sobering up. "The girl you came here looking for, you pray for her return? Still, after all these years?" Gendry didn't answer, but he stopped walking. "She was from the North, wasn't she?" Jeyne asked.

Gendry turned at that, "Is. She _is_ from the North. How did you know?" He asked, wondering if Jeyne knew it was the last Stark he had been searching for and praying for.

Jeyne shrugged, "Because why else would you be praying to the Old Gods? You're from the south, where they worship the Seven." Jeyne paused and looked at him intently, "I hope they hear you." She said after a moment, "Maybe then you might be happy."

She turned away and went back to the inn, and Gendry turned to go to the Godswood: Jeyne had been right, he prayed to the Old Gods because they were Arya's Gods. He had never been a religious person, but had been taught to pray to the Seven. He had tried that, all along the King's Road, asking them to keep him and Arya safe. But they had been chased, kidnapped, and barely escaped with their lives – the Seven had been no help whatsoever. Regardless, when Arya disappeared he prayed to the Seven to bring her back, prayed to the Seven to help him find her.

When they failed him, he tried praying to R'hollor, but he had been just as useful as the Seven, so after a year he tried praying to them both. And of course, that was no use whatsoever.

So when he had discovered there was a Godswood, he had tried praying to the Old Gods and he had prayed every night for over a month. Maybe they had heard him: wolves hadn't howled like this in a long time – he used to hear the wolves every night when he had been travelling with Arya, but once she left, the howling had stopped. Now that the howling had returned, perhaps Arya had returned also. Or maybe he was just clutching at the faintest of hopes, because it was the only thing stopping him from sinking into despair.

Nearly a month later, he began to put more store in his hopes, when Jeyne came to the forge late in the afternoon.

"Harwin is here." She said simply. Gendry turned to look at her, and she nodded telling him he had heard her right. He threw down his tools and practically ran to the Inn.

When Harwin and Thoros had left four years ago, they had promised Gendry they would continue to search for Arya, and if they had any promising leads they would come to him. And in return, should Arya return the same way she had left, or should Gendry hear something promising from people passing through, he would go to the Brotherhood directly with his findings.

They had come once before, when they had heard the rumours that Arya had been found and was being sent north to marry Ramsay Bolton. Gendry had heard the same rumour and had travelled to the King's Road to wait for her to pass. It hadn't been her. He knew it even before she came close enough to see her features: The Arya he knew was fierce, and dressed like a boy, but this girl was in a dress and riding like a proper little lady. When they came closer, he noticed the girl was riding of her own free will and none of the men escorting her appeared harmed in any way: no, that certainly wasn't Arya Stark. Arya Stark would have kicked and screamed, bitten and scratched at everyone as they forced her into a dress and made her sit the horse. They would have had to tie her to the saddle to get her to cooperate.

And this girl was all wrong – yes, he hadn't seen Arya in many months by this point, but still, he would have recognised her with ease. Her face was wrong, her hair was the wrong colour, and far too long. And her eyes - there was the most striking difference: Arya's eyes were the grey of steel, but they burned with fire most of the time. When she laughed, they sparkled, when she was angry the rage burned bright in them – but she never cried, at least not where anyone could see, and Gendry had never known her to show fear. But this girl, her eyes were brown; not even remotely close to the steely grey he was longing to see. And the expression: there was no fire in her eyes, instead there was fear, and tears. Whoever this girl was, she certainly wasn't Arya Stark.

Gendry had relayed all this to Harwin, when he had come the first time, and Harwin had gone off to report to Lady Stoneheart. But now he was back, and Gendry wondered if this had something to do with the wolves.

"What have you heard?" Gendry asked, as he entered the inn and took a seat opposite Harwin.

"Hello Gendry," Harwin said, sounding tired, "It's good to see you too. You look well." He smiled, speaking the pleasantries Gendry had forgotten.

Gendry ignored him, "What have you heard?" He repeated.

"It may sound like a long shot," Harwin began, "But two weeks ago, the wolves in the Riverlands starting acting strangely. For hours they howled non stop, I've never heard wolves howl like that-"

"Just after sunset?" Gendry asked,

"Dead on sunset," Harwin frowned, "How did you know?"

"The wolves around here, howling just the same, just after Sunset," Gendry told him. "You think it's a sign?" Gendry could hear the hope in his voice and felt ridiculous: he had never been one for superstition or religion, but when it came to finding Arya it seemed he was a desperate man.

"At first, I wasn't sure." Harwin admitted, "but a week later, news came from the south, that the wolves down there had done the same, not long after sunset. It's as if the howling started in the Riverlands and spread until all the wolves in Westeros were calling out. And there was other news." Harwin said slowly.

"What news." Gendry said, just as Jeyne came over with a pitcher of ale and two tankards. Harwin waited to speak until Jeyne had poured and left.

"There are rumours that the Ghost of Lyanna Stark was seen in Oldtown. That she left with an hundred men, heading north." Harwin said quietly.

Gendry frowned, "Who's Lyanna Stark?" He asked, trying to think if Arya had ever mentioned her.

"Lord Eddard's sister." Harwin explained, "She died young, when the Mad King was still alive. She's the one Robert Baratheon went to war for. It seems certain Stags have a weakness for Stark girls." He muttered before taking a swig of ale.

Gendry couldn't make head nor tail of this last comment, and right now he didn't much care what Harwin meant, all he cared about was what this might mean. "You think it's Arya?" He asked.

"Who else could it be?" Harwin said, "I never knew what Lyanna looked like as a child, but I saw her as a woman grown. When you and Arya came to us, I saw the difference in her from when she had been at Winterfell: she had grown, and was beginning to resemble her aunt in looks. Resembled her in temper too," Harwin smiled fondly, "Though I think Arya might be a little more wild, I suppose she would have had to have been, to survive the King's Road and Harrenhal." He commented his smile fading.

"You think now, then, that she will look more like her Aunt?" Gendry asked, becoming more hopeful by the minute.

Harwin nodded thoughtfully, "I think she will be her double: I thought she would grow to be, when I last saw her. And what age will she be now? It's been four years, nearly five? So she'll be five and ten? Maybe six and ten?"

Gendry shrugged, "I don't know how old she was when she disappeared: we'd been on the road so long, and in Harrenhal longer, we lost track of days, weeks, months. I don't even think Arya knew truly how old she was." Gendry admitted.

"Either way, Arya left us a child, by now she will be a woman grown. Almost of an age with Lyanna at the time of her death – if ever Arya is going to look the double her Aunt, it will be at this age." Harwin said.

"We have to go find her," Gendry said, making to stand, but Harwin put a hand on his arm, keeping him in place.

"Seven Hells, Gendry, I've just got here, I've ridden hard to get here as quick as I could. I'm not going anywhere before I get hot food down me, and I've slept in a bed." Harwin said, "We'll set out first thing tomorrow, I promise, but before we turn south, we need to return to Stoney Sept."

"Why?" Gendry asked, though he felt he already knew.

"Lady Stoneheart will want to hear what I've heard. I was near Harrenhal when I heard the rumours, and I came straight here to tell you. Lady Stoneheart probably wont thank me none, but she chose hanging Freys over following Arya's trail, you didn't." Harwin said; like Gendry, Harwin was uneasy with Lady Stoneheart's command. "And anyway, most of the men should be returning to Stoney Sept about this time, from there we can plan how best to find her. Send out groups in more than one direction." Harwin voiced.

Gendry didn't remain at the table long after that; when darkness fell he went out to the Godswood like he did every night, to pray that this Ghost of Lyanna Stark was in fact Arya, and to thank the Gods if it was. He then returned to the forge, where he found Jeyne waiting for him, a sad look in her eyes.

"You're leaving with Harwin, on the Morrow, aren't you." Jeyne said. It wasn't a question: she knew.

"Yes." Gendry said, moving to the corner where his pack was – he had never fully emptied it when he had decided to stay, there were still a small bundle of things at the bottom, but he didn't remove it. Instead, he began to put his limited necessities into it – it took all of three minutes.

"I knew you would be, I see the hope in your features, stronger than I have before. They've found her." She stated.

"Maybe." Gendry allowed, "Harwin has heard some promising rumours."

"Rumours?" Jeyne asked, "You're leaving us for rumours?" Gendry sighed, but Jeyne continued, her eyes starting to brim with tears, "Why can't you just forget her? If you forgot her, you could be happy here, with me." She finished.

Gendry knew that Jeyne had feelings for him, but he didn't return them: he had tried to, at one time, but it had only made things worse. It had been the night he had returned from his venture to the King's Road, his disappointment was severe and Jeyne had tried to comfort him. Being the fool that he was, and after having drunk a fair amount of ale to dull his senses, Gendry had let her comfort him. Only it hadn't comforted him in the least, and since then Jeyne's feelings had only grown.

"You know I can't." Gendry said quietly, "I'm sorry."

"Why?" She asked, "Did I disappoint you? Or leave a bad taste in your mouth?"

"You know that's not it," Gendry said patiently, trying not to see the tears forming, "I shouldn't have led you on like I did: I didn't mean for it happen, I'm sorry. But I can't forget about her, I was supposed to keep her safe, I need to find her."

Jeyne turned her face away for a moment and took a breath, blinking away the tears. When she turned back around she had complete control of herself once again, "And what about the children? Who is to keep us safe?" She asked.

Gendry smiled, "Willow and yourself can take care of yourselves well enough, I've seen the proof." He reminded her, "But regardless, you will have Tommy." He told her.

Tommy was the oldest of the orphans, and for the past few years he had been working with Gendry in the forge.

"Tommy?" Jeyne repeated, "He is only a green boy of six and ten! He's never even seen a battle!"

"He is the same age I was when I first came here," Gendry reminded her patiently, "And he's strong and sensible and reliable. He knows how to work a forge well enough, I've taught him all I know. He can continue to bring in extra coin the way I did. You don't need me here now." He said.

Jeyne sighed, and nodded, finally admitting defeat, "I'll make some extra bread in the morning for you to take with you." She said, "I hope you find what you're looking for." She smiled sadly, before turning and leaving him alone; to try and get some sleep before setting off on what he prayed was not going to be some fruitless expedition.

* * *

**_A/N: Okay, so Gendry ended up being a little bit on the emotional side in this chapter, but he will show his more manly side further into the story lol This was just a bit of background chapter, to get up to speed with how Gendry has been spending his years. _**

**_Let me know what you thought, and tell me if you found the U2 lyric :) - By the way, if anyone has any requests of any songs they want me to use, let me know :)_**

**_Next chapter will be another one form Aegon's pov, not sure how long until it will be ready, but hopefully within a week._**

**_xBx_**


	5. Chapter 5: Aegon

**_A/N: So, I forgot I had already written most of this chapter, which means it's ready to go a lot quicker than I planned lol_**

**_Thanks for all my reviews, and follows and favourites, you guys are great :) and congrats to Calisi87 and Mariion for finding the lyrics in last chapter. I used 'Did I disappoint you? Did I leave a bad taste in your mouth?' from _****One **_**by **_**U2.**_**This chapter has a little something from the genius that is Meat Loaf.**_

_**Also, thanks to youbima-chan for pointing out my mistake in Chapter 4 - I have corrected it, and Jeyne Pool now no longer has blue eyes, but brown :) lol**_

_**Enjoy,**_

_**xBx**_

* * *

**Chapter 5: Aegon**

It had been six weeks since Aegon had sent his envoys north, up into the mountains of the Vale. Since then they had received two ravens from the men: the first to tell that they had crossed the Blackwater Rush, close to King's Landing, but with little incident – they had come across a number of Lannister outriders, but they would not be reporting back to King's Landing of Aegon's movements; each scuffle had resulted in the shedding of Lannister blood, but none of Aegon's men had been harmed.

The second raven delivered news that they had successfully crossed the Trident, and that they were on the edge of the Vale. It was a curious letter, detailing their stay at a crossroads inn and repeating some rumours that had been circling there. Rumours about the Ghost of Lyanna Stark rallying men in the south, and that the Brotherhood were rallying somewhere in the centre of the Riverlands – the girl at the inn never said where, but apparently the young man who had been their protector for four years had taken off suddenly at the prospect of finding some long lost girl. _I can't help but think these two incidents are related, though how I cannot say at present_ Peake had written, _But if we can discover who this lost girl is whom the brotherhood are apparently searching for, perhaps she can help us unite the brotherhood to our cause. I shall write again when we have more news._

Peake was right, if they found this girl, they would be more likely to broker an alliance with the Brotherhood. Though how to start looking for someone they knew nothing about, Aegon had no clue. Aegon had received the letter this morning, and he was currently discussing its contents with Arianne and Jon in the map room.

"Until we know more about who this girl is, there is not much we can do." Arianne stated, for the tenth time already, "We have bigger things to worry about – where have those wolves come from?!" She snapped, running her hands through her hair.

The wolves had been howling for half an hour, on and off, slowly getting louder.

"I don't know," Aegon said, running a hand over his eyes, "But I'm starting to get a headache." He muttered.

Their conversation was interrupted by a knock on the door, and one of his guards entered. "Your Grace." He announced himself, looking wary.

Aegon looked up from the letter he was poring over, for the fifth time that morning, "What is it?"

"Brother's of the Night's Watch, travelling North to the wall. They are at the gates and wish to be admitted. They seek shelter for the night and if possible a pick of the Dungeons." The guard seemed to find this request impertinent, but Aegon didn't mind.

"What in seven hells have you kept them waiting for?" Aegon asked, "Why haven't you admitted them? They are Men of the Night's Watch, they take no part in wars in the seven Kingdoms so they are no threat, and they need all the help they can get. If not for the Wall there wouldn't be a Kingdom for me to claim." Aegon reminded him.

"They are travelling with a Lady, who is followed in turn by a host of armed men and a pack of wolves. One of which is as big as a horse, and never leaves the woman's side" The guard said.

"Ahh." Aegon said, now he understood the reluctance, and also why there had suddenly been more howls than usual. "What does she want?" He asked warily, conscious of the look exchanged between Lord Connington and Arianne.

"She seeks an audience with you, you're Grace. But she is reluctant to give her name."

Aegon's curiosity was spiked, "Let them through, give the Black Brothers everything they have requested, tell them I will come to them shortly in the Hall. Send the Lady straight up to me. And request that her men and wolves remain at the gates until I have had a chance to speak with her." Aegon commanded.

"At once, Your Grace." The guard nodded, before turning and leaving. When the door was safely shut behind him, Aegon turned to his companions. "A wolf as big as a horse?" He repeated significantly.

"That can only be a direwolf." Arianne said uneasily, "But with the winter, it's possible a number of animals that dwell in the far North have found their way South, to warmer climates." She suggested.

"This far south?" Jon challenged, "And at the side of a woman? We know of only one family who has a connection with direwolves."

"The Starks." Aegon agreed, "But both girls are missing, presumed dead.

"But, if this is a Stark girl," Jon pressed, "It may explain why she is reluctant to give her name. And, this seems too much of coincidence considering the letter you hold in your hand." He added.

Aegon's wariness was forgotten, and he let out a snort, "You think a ghost is at our gates?" He mocked.

Jon was spared from answering when the guard returned, opening the door and admitting the woman in question. As soon as she entered she caused a stir: her beauty, despite the plainness of her attire, immediately struck Aegon. She was petite, and dressed in men's garb, but it was fitted well enough to show that she was plainly a woman, and she exuded a confidence that bordered almost on dangerous: Arianne was a strong woman, but Aegon had a feeling even she might quail under this young woman, should she be tested. Her hair was a dark deep brown, almost black, and was pulled back in a loose braid that fell over her shoulder, a few loose tendrils falling around her face and perfectly framing her features. But it was her eyes that drew Aegon: a stormy grey that were indifferent at the moment, but Aegon was sure that any emotion would be betrayed there, and if it were it would be mesmerising.

What Aegon never expected was the reaction her entrance received from Jon Connington. He stood at once, albeit stiffly, drawing his blade; as soon as the metal left the scabbard a cacophony of howls erupted from outside the gates.

"Seven Hells!" Jon shouted

Aegon looked in shock at his companion, and back at the beautiful woman, who seemed less than fazed at the greeting, though her eyes became even more steely and cold.

"Would you truly attack an unarmed girl?" She asked politely, "If I knew I were to be received like this, I would never have surrendered my own blade at the door, quite so easy." Her accent was confusing; there was a strong Northern undercurrent, but there was also a hint of the free cities – accents that Aegon had got to know well in his time across the Narrow Sea. If he were to hazard a guess, he would say she had spent a fair amount of time in Braavos.

"Stand down." Aegon commanded, "What's the matter with you?"

"You are no girl." Jon declared, not lowering his sword, and ignoring his King. "What are you, who can take on the form of the dead?" he demanded.

The woman raised her eyebrows, "The dead?" She repeated, "You are mistaken, ser, I am very much alive."

"Lyanna Stark died over twenty years past. Yet she is standing in front of me now. How is that possible?" Jon persisted.

The woman smiled, "Right family, wrong woman." She said, "Lyanna is dead, and still lies in the crypts of Winterfell. But I won't deny I am a stark." She admitted. "I am Arya, perhaps you have heard of me?"

"You married the Bastard of Bolton, but disappeared a couple of years ago." Aegon said in response.

"No. I have never married and I disappeared long before then." She glanced back at Jon ,"Perhaps if your companion will stay his weapon we could discuss this thoroughly." She suggested.

"Do as she says." Aegon commanded, and when the weapons were sheathed he proceeded to introduce them. As soon as the threat was taken away, the wolves quieted outside, much to everyone's relief.

"I apologise, my lady. This is Lord Jon Connington, of Rainwood." Aegon introduced, "And this is the Princess Arianne, of Dorne." Arya nodded to each in turn.

"Forgive me, My Lady." Jon spoke, "But your appearance took me by surprise. If I may be so bold, how do we know you are truly who you say you are?" he asked her.

"You can not deny I am a Stark: the blood of the First Men and the Starks runs thick in my veins – if it didn't you would not have confused me with my Aunt. If that does not convince you, did your guard tell you what walks at my side?" As the three exchanged uneasy looks, Arya continued,

"Surely you know the stories of Ned Stark's children and their Direwolf pups? Surely you heard the stories of King Robb who rode to battle with his Direwolf at his side? Each child had their own: Nymeria is mine, and only I can tell her what to do. Our connection is deeper than that of normal master and pet – you heard the commotion when steel was drawn against me, she sensed my danger. Do I need to offer further proof?" She asked, sincerity flowing with every word and Aegon believed her whole-heartedly.

"You have convinced me," Aegon said, "But your sudden reappearance is a bit of a shock, to say the least." He pointed out. "Please, take a seat," Aegon offered, and then turned to Arianne, who wasn't looking too pleased. "Arianne, fetch Lady Stark a goblet, please." Arianne looked even less pleased at that. Aegon rolled his eyes, "I'm not going to send for a serving boy to do something we are more than capable of doing ourselves." He said.

Arianne complied with his request in silent indignation – Aegon wasn't quite sure what was angering her to such a degree, but he would reserve asking questions until they were alone.

When Arya had been served with wine, Jon spoke once again.

"You have me convinced, too." He said slowly, retaking his seat, "But why are you here? And if you didn't marry Ramsey Bolton, who did?"

Arya took a seat of her own, and Aegon and Arianne followed suit. "I'm afraid I can't answer that question, Lord Connington, your guess is as good as mine. I have been told she was sent from King's Landing, by Cersei Lannister: Cersei never had me in her possession. She took Sansa the day she arrested my father, or rather Sansa went to her willingly, but I ran and I hid. I hid well, and I left the city – the how and when does not matter, and where I went is of no consequence to our conversation. All you need know is that I eventually made my way across the Narrow Sea some four years ago, but now I have returned. To take back what is rightfully mine and seek vengeance for my family."

"But what brings you to Storms End? To me?" Aegon asked.

"I'm here to propose an alliance" Arya said, getting right down to the point "From what I have heard since my return, I believe I can be of help to you, and you can certainly be of some help to me."

"How so?" Aegon edged. He saw her glance at the table where the large map of the Seven Kingdoms was laid.

"You have not attempted to take King's Landing yet." She stated, rising from her seat and moving to stand at the table. Aegon followed immediately, but Jon and Arianne remained resolutely in their place.

"As I understand it, the Lannisters have a good number of men there, as well as a strong host at Casterly Rock and the surrounding area." Arya spoke, her eyes travelling to the places she spoke of, taking in the figurines placed there.

"The Tyrells of Highgarden are still presumably sworn to the Lannisters, since their little Rose is married to Tommen." Arya continued. "You have the full backing of Dorne, along with some of the lesser houses of the Reach. You have the support of Cape Wrath, and Tarth has pledged you their allegiance. As it stands, you are very evenly matched. Which is why you have yet to strike, am I right?" She asked, looking up at Aegon, her face still devoid of any emotion.

Aegon nodded, watching her intently. "The Iron Men do not move," He told her, adding to what she had said, "They keep their fleet anchored at Pyke: we had word from their King, claiming he will be an ally, but will not bend the knee. He will assist as long as he is able to remain King of the North and the Iron Isles."

"I hope you told him to go fuck himself with that offer. He has no right to the North, the North belongs to Winterfell and the Starks." Arya declared angrily, betraying the first hint of emotion, though contrary to Aegon's early surmise, her eyes remained cold and calm: only Lady Arya's voice betrayed the emotion. But despite this, Aegon couldn't help his lips from quirking into a small smile at the less than lady-like language she displayed: there was something quite refreshing about her brashness.

"The Iron Men will not stir." Arya agreed, turning back to the maps, "You can expect no help from the North, not while they are busy defending their own lands from beings beyond the Wall, as well as scuffling amongst themselves and the Iron Men." She continued bluntly, "The Lords of the Riverlands, you should not count on them either. I hear The Tullys still hold Riverrun, but barely. If they leave, the Lannisters will claim the Riverlands. But of course you know all this." She added, with a small, sly smile.

"The question is: how do you know all this?" Asked Arianne suspiciously. While Jon had accepted Arya for who she was, and had seemingly mellowed toward her as they talked, Aegon noticed that Arianne remained extremely cold to the last Stark.

"I made a point of knowing everything I needed to know, before I came here. I never make a decision without knowing all the facts." Arya said coolly, taking in Arianne's hostility and returning it in kind, before turning back to Aegon.

"What of the outlaws?" she asked slowly, and Aegon thought he detected a hint of wariness in her tone, "The Brotherhood Without Banners? I hear they are still at large? That they have not disbanded?"

"They have never disbanded, we still hear of them. But we can never find them." Jon admitted, "We hear rumours of where they are, but we do not trouble them too much. We found if we leave them be, they leave us be."

"The Brotherhood had many friends a few years ago, they never wanted for shelter away from the open." Arya told them. "They probably still have that many now, perhaps more."

"How would you know that?" Aegon asked curiously.

Arya shrugged, "I travelled with them for a time." She said simply, looking intently at the map, "Where are they rumoured to be now?"

"You were an outlaw?" Arianne said with contempt. Arya lifted her head slowly, and gave Arianne a cold look with just as much contempt.

"They were not the words I said." Lady Arya bit back, the contempt becoming clear in her voice. "I said I _travelled_ with them, not that I was one of them. They were the only people to know who I truly was after I fled King's Landing. I stayed with them for a time, and they were going to return me safely to my Mother and Brother. Obviously they were unsuccessful." She looked back at Aegon but before she could ask a question, Aegon spoke first.

"You travelled with them for a time?" He repeated, and then "Did they perhaps loose you?" He asked slowly and he saw Jon give him a quick look, and knew that Jon understood what he was thinking.

"You could say that." Arya conceded slowly, "But it's not important." She said, though she watched Aegon warily as she spoke.

"It might be," Aegon hedged; she could be the key to bringing the Brotherhood to his banners, "How well did they treat you? Did they show you respect?" He asked.

Arya smiled, as if she knew what Aegon was really trying to ask.

"You want to know if they thought well enough of me to listen to me." Arya stated. Yes, she knew exactly what Aegon was getting at. Without waiting for a response, Arya shrugged, "They will never fight under your banners." She told him bluntly.

"The Brotherhood fought in the name of my Lord Father: Lord Beric was their leader, and he was continuing the work Lord Eddard had sent him out to do. If they are ever going to take any banners, they are more like to be mine than yours." She said.

"Lord Beric?" Aegon asked, confused, as he had never heard that name. "They are led by a Lady Stoneheart, now."

"I do not know her," she admitted.

"I don't believe Stoneheart is her true name, My Lady." Aegon said, "But no one knows who she really is except those close to her. But regardless, she has been going after the Freys, seeking vengeance for the Red Wedding, so she is obviously a friend to the Starks." Arya looked back down at the maps, no emotions registering on her face, but Aegon noticed her knuckles whiten as she gripped the table.

"I am sorry, My Lady, I should have thought before bringing that up." Aegon said quietly.

Arya shook her head, "It's quite all right," she said calmly, "Please continue."

Aegon cleared his throat, "As I was saying, apart from going after Freys, it seems the brotherhood are also looking for someone." He told her, "A girl whom they lost a few years ago, they seem keen to find her again." Arya looked up at Aegon as he said this,

"And you think it's me." She stated, once again hearing the words Aegon had yet to speak, "And you think I am the key to bringing the brotherhood to your cause? Lets say you're right, what makes you think I would convince them to fight for you and not myself?" She asked, with a small smile.

Aegon smiled back with confidence, "You came here to barter an alliance did you not?" he reminded her.

Arya surveyed him for a moment, then gave a quirk of a smile and a small nod before looking back down at the map of Westeros, her eyes lingering momentarily far north, where Winterfell stood.

"Now that we've discussed the lay of the land and its forces, why don't we just get to the point?" Arianne suggested roughly; Aegon sensed she was becoming impatient with the conversation and even more impatient with Arya's presence, though why he could not truly say.

Arya took a breath, and addressed the room in a clearer voice, "To take King's Landing for certainty, you need more men. You could, of course, ask for help from your Aunt, who currently sits in Slavers Bay, as I understand. But that would take a long time, and that amount of time you do not have. Plus, can you really trust her?" Arya asked, in all seriousness.

Aegon looked momentarily confused, "Why couldn't I trust her?" he asked warily. "She is family."

Arya shrugged, "I can only retell what I have heard: But you must remember it was long believed you were dead, and she was therefore raised believing her brother was the rightful King. Her brother arranged her a marriage to a Kahl, and when she rose to Kahleesi she repaid her brother by crowning him with molten gold, or so it's been told. She was already a Queen of the Horselords, and after getting rid of her brother, she put herself in line for the Iron Throne. Colour me cynical, but that isn't someone _I_ would trust to help me take the throne." She said to them, letting the unspoken assumption of treachery hang in the air.

"What exactly are you proposing?" Arianne pressed, "As of yet, you have yet to say anything specific."

"I hold no love for the Lannisters." Arya declared, "I have come to you, knowing who you are, and in support of your claim to the Iron Throne. I will acknowledge you as King on the Iron Throne, if you acknowledge me as Lady Stark, rightful Heir of Winterfell, and Warden of the North in my own name." She declared.

"And if I did this," Aegon said, "You could bring me the North?" He asked, "Unite them, and make them kneel to me?"

Arya bit her lip, deliberating, "The only time the North is truly united is when there is a Stark in Winterfell," She said slowly, measuring her every word, "When the war for the Iron Throne began, after Robert Baratheon's death, the North did not bestir themselves for any King, but for my Father, Lord Eddard, who had been wrongly accused of treason by the Lannisters. They marched south, behind my brother Robb, and when my Lord Father was executed for false claims, and war broke out over who was the rightful heir, the Northmen bent their knee to my brother and proclaimed him King in the North." She reminded them all.

"Prince Aegon, you may be the rightful heir to the Iron Throne, but do not make the grave mistake of your predecessors, and underestimate the North: The Northmen protect the realm from what lays beyond the Wall – in the summer years, the Southern Lords and summer Kings forgot that, but now winter is here and I bet you have seen and heard of things you can not explain." She saw the look they exchanged, and knew she was right.

"After everything the North has been through, and is still going through; after the scorn laid upon us by the Iron Throne and the Southron Lords, there is no way we will kneel to the Iron Throne. The North will remain an independent Kingdom, but that does not mean we can not be allies." Arya said confidently, and Aegon heard the determination in her voice: she would not be swayed from her decision, and he had to consider this extremely carefully, or risk making another enemy.

"No, you will only steal away half Aegon's Kingdom!" Arianne bristled, losing what little calm she had managed to retain.

Lady Arya smiled, "I am only taking the North, that will leave Prince Aegon with six, out of seven, Kingdoms: that's a tad more than half." She looked to Aegon now, "And correct me if I'm wrong, but that's one more Kingdom than the Iron Throne currently holds, is it not? See, an alliance with me is already paying off."

Aegon laughed at that, despite the seriousness of the conversation, "She speaks true, you can't deny it." He said, glancing at Arianne before looking back to Arya, "Though if you wanted to keep the Iron Isles and their men, I won't begrudge you." He said, only half joking.

Lady Arya grimaced, "Tempting," she said, and her sarcasm was clear, "But I think I'll just stick to the North: I wouldn't want to be accused of being greedy. The Iron Men are all yours."

Aegon chuckled again, "Wonderful," he said, sarcasm colouring his tone as well. He shook his head, and returned the conversation to a serious track:

"I know my history, Lady Stark, both old and recent. And I am well aware that after the first conquest, the North was the last Kingdom to bend the knee" Aegon said.

Arya nodded, "For years, the Starks reigned as Kings in the North and kept a peaceful alliance with the Iron Throne – I see no reason why we can not go back to that. The alternative is to force the North to their knees, but nothing short of Dragons raining fire down upon us will make us kneel. And suffice to say, after the bloodshed that the Lannisters have spread across Westeros, such drastic measures will cause you to loose more support, I fear. No one wants to see any more butchery." She told him, and Aegon nodded in agreement – he wanted his ascent to the throne to be as peaceful as possible. He knew some blood would have to be shed, but complete carnage such as the Lannister armies had spread was something he could at least try to avoid.

"You are your brother's heir, there is no doubt to that." Aegon conceded, "Rightful heir of Winterfell, and Warden of the North. But do you intend to pick up his crown and declare yourself Queen?" He asked

"The Starks are the rightful holders of the North; I will hold the North as a Stark of Winterfell." Arya clarified, "But whether as simply Lady Stark, or Queen Arya, that is not for me to decide. The Northmen crowned my brother, only they can crown me." Now they were getting to the heart of the matter.

"And if they do crown me, it will not change your claim to the Iron Throne." Arya pressed on, "You will still be King, and I will still back your claim. You will just be one Kingdom short of the seven you are currently trying to claim. When I take back Winterfell, I can restore peace amongst the Northmen, and set things to rights. And I can guarantee they will follow me into any battle I lead them to." Arya said, with a determined look.

"But I will never make them bend the knee to the Iron Throne. I will swear you my allegiance, but after everything the North and I have suffered at the hands of those who sit the Iron Throne, I can never kneel to you. You have to understand that." She finished.

Aegon considered her for a moment, he could feel the tension in Jon and Arianne, and he knew they were bristling at her brashness. But Aegon found Lady Arya's boldness stimulating: she had more backbone than many of the men he was surrounded by; she spoke truths not flowery riddles, and he respected her for it.

"Hear her?" Aegon said to the other two, "She does not flower her words. You should take a leaf out of her book, Arianne. Jon doesn't always say things so bluntly, it's true, but he does it more so than you." He told her with a smile – a smile she did not return.

Arianne didn't reply, though Aegon was sure she had something to say. He decided he didn't want to hear it just now, so he turned back to Arya.

"I know that I will never be politically correct, and I don't give a damn about my lack of etiquette," Arya said defiantly, in defence of her blunt speeches, "But I will always speak the truth; and I will never go back on my word, of that I can assure you, upon my honour as a Stark."

"Alright," Aegon conceded, "I accept your-".

"What are you doing?" Arianne hissed, cutting him off.

"Your Grace, shouldn't we discuss this?" Jon said quietly in his ear.

"What is there to discuss?" Aegon said, "You know as well as I do, we need the North, or the Bortherhood: She is the only one who can give us both. You told the men to pray for a miracle that would deliver us a Stark to hand us the North," He reminded Jon, "Well, your prayers have been answered, but everything has it's price."

Aegon looked back to Arya, "As I was saying, I accept your alliance. What happens now?"

Arya allowed a small smile, and she straightened herself up, standing tall. "When I leave here I will continue to travel North, and retake what is mine." She declared, "But I will need men: I intend to recruit more men as I travel. The Tullys of Riverrun are my kin and will fight on my side, though not until the Riverlands are secure. But that won't be near enough. Which brings to my other motive for coming to you: I am asking you to grant me some men, to help me. I won't ask many, I know you cannot spare an army. I ask only fifty. I have already gained fifty seasoned men to fight alongside me, and fifty green lads eager for battle. Between here and Oldtown I have gathered a handful more. I am confident, after what you have told me, that I can get the Brotherhood to give me their swords. If the Brotherhood will fight for me, then I can get them to fight for you also." Arya said.

"Do you truly believe you can?" Jon asked, clearly uncertain.

"I do." Arya said to him, sincerity clear in her features, before looking back at Aegon. "And once I get into the North, I should have no trouble rallying men against the Iron Islanders. Once they fall, I will help you take King's Landing." She assured him.

Aegon looked thoughtful for a moment, "Perhaps you may not need to." He said slowly, "If you take men up to the Riverlands, draw out the Brotherhood to stand with you, that will be a lot of men between the Lannisters at Casterly Rock and King's Landing. If we call the strength of Dorne to us now, and move not long after you leave," He said to Arya, "We could take King's Landing with ease, without the worry of Lannister reinforcements coming down from the rock to take is in the rear."

Arya nodded, thinking of what he said, "It's certainly possible." She agreed, looking intently at the maps and figurines across the table, "Though by no means certain. It will need further discussion." She looked out of the window, "The day is wearing on," she commented.

"Forgive me," Aegon said, "I didn't stop to think, you will have had a long hard ride from Oldtown. I will find room for you and your men, and you will of course join us in the hall for dinner."

Arya smiled, "Thank you, that would be most welcome. And if it is not too much trouble, I would welcome a bath, I think my men would too. As you say, it's been a long ride."

Aegon smiled, "Of course, I will have the maids fetch a tub to your room, for privacy. My men will show your men to the bathhouse. And tomorrow, I hope we can continue our discussion where we have left off?"

"I look forward to it." Arya said with a polite smile.

Aegon summoned his guards back, giving him instructions to let Lady Stark's men and Direwolf be admitted into the grounds, and housed in whatever comfort they could spare, and to the then show Lady Stark to a room, where she could bathe and change in private. When Arya had left, Aegon turned back to Jon and Arianne, and waited for them to speak.

"Say it." Aegon spoke tiredly, after neither made a move to speak.

"You don't want me to 'flower my words' to you?" Arianne repeated his earlier sentiment, "Fine then. You are a bloody fool!" she snapped. "You've just given away one of your seven Kingdoms! What were you thinking?" she demanded angrily.

Aegon sighed, "I can't give away what I don't have." Aegon snapped, "You may all call me 'Your Grace', but until I sit the Iron Throne and are crowned within Baelor's Sept, I am still only a _claimant_ to the throne." He reminded them. "What would you have had me do?" he asked, "Tell her to forget it? That it could never be? What do you think would have happened if I had done that?"

Aegon waited for an answer but neither of his companions spoke, so he answered it himself: "She would have left: gone to the Riverlands and rallied the Brotherhood, she would have taken the North and not lifted a finger to help me take the Iron Throne. Instead of a strong alliance with the North, there would have been animosity and feuds and our separate reigns would have been clouded with constant war. Neither of us want that."

Jon sighed, "You are right," he admitted, "I know you are right. And we've known for a long time the North would never bend, we've just never admitted it to ourselves before now. But it still seems hastily settled."

"We are running out of time to act." Aegon said again, "Perhaps it was hasty, but you saw her countenance: Lady Stark is a woman who knows what she wants, she is clearly determined and nothing was going to sway her."

"Throwing in your lot with a Stark is never a good idea." Arianne warned, "Or have you forgotten about what happened to your Father and my Aunt?" she asked coldly.

Aegon looked at her for a moment, and then let out a surprised bark of laughter, "_That's_ what your concern is? That is why you hate her so, you believe history is going to repeat itself? I can assure you, my dear, I have no intentions of running of with the Lady Arya, I am perfectly happy with you at my side." He assured her.

"Prince Rhaegar was happy with Elia." Arianne stated, "Until the little she-wolf came along."

"Forgive me, my princess," Aegon said, "But that is not the story I have heard. But regardless of what happened with our predecessors, I have a feeling the Princess of the North will have more pressing matters on her mind – such as taking back her home, for example – that will distract her from wishing to engage in a tragic love story." he said dryly, the days discussions having taken a toll on him; he was tired and he was hungry, having been so wrapped up in discussions he hadn't eaten anything since breaking his fast not long after dawn.

"Much to your disappointment I am sure," Arianne snapped, walking to the door, "I suppose I should see to getting the Northern Princess a room ready." She declared, leaving Aegon alone with Jon.

"Was it really wise to goad her in such a way?" Jon asked patiently.

Aegon sighed, "Probably not. But she was being ridiculous. Anyway, Lady Stark will continue North in a few days, once her men are rested, and Arianne's jealously will be forgotten and all will be well."

* * *

**_A/N: Just a quick note, I know_****_I seem a bit harsh towards Daenerys in this - but obviously Arya will not know everything we have read, what she will have heard will have been passed through many people and distorted to a degree. Which is why I wrote it like that (I actually don't mind Daenerys as a character. lol)_**

**_I know this alliance may seem to have happened a little quick but it's the start of a long war, so there is still plenty of action to come. Next chapter will be back to Arya, and I can guarantee this one will not be up until next week as I have to get back to real life for a while *sigh* but I will work on it as often as I can._**

**_As ever, please review, and tell me if you found the lyric :)_**

**_xBx_**


	6. Chapter 6: Arya

_**A/N: Hey! Back with the next chapter, finally. what can I say, after last Sunday's GoT ep, I just couldn't face anything for a couple of days - I was even worse than reading the scene, little bit of PTSD I think - anyone else get that, or was it just me? In saying that, I am so looking forward to seeing Lady Stoneheart. But, I digress...**_

_**Thanks for all my reads, my favourites and my follows - you guys are awesome. ANd thank you to all my reviews, you're so generous, and I'm loving the feedback. Last chapter's lyric proved more elusive than the others, it was: 'I know that I will never be politically correct, and I don't give a damn about my lack of etiquette.' from **_**Everything Louder than everything Else,_ by_ Meat Loaf. (Arya says it, towards the end of her talk with Aegon.)**

**_This chapter's lyric is a little bit shorter, and it's from a song by David Guetta (I won't tell you who it features, I don't want to make it too easy :P). enjoy_**

**_xBx_**

* * *

**Chapter 6: Arya**

Arya left Aegon to the blazing row that would undoubtedly ensue in her absence: while Lord Connington had seemed to warm to her eventually, and Aegon had warmed to her quickly, the Princess Arianne of Dorne didn't seem to care for her too much, and Arya was certain the woman was struggling to refrain herself while Arya remained. Arya wasn't the least bit phased, at the end of the day, she had got what she came for: an alliance with Aegon, without having to bend the knee to the Iron Throne.

After taking back her sword and dagger, Prince Aegon's guards escorted Arya back to the main gates, where her men awaited her, she smiled at her men as she approached and gave them a curt nod, telling them that all had gone according to plan.

"Open the gates and let them through." The guard commanded, and the men posted on the gates hastily obliged, Nymeria immediately bounding through everyone to make sure Arya was perfectly fine. Every man surrounding her took several hasty steps of retreat away from the beast, and the dogs around the kennels began to whine and yelp at the unfamiliar scent. Once Nymeria was satisfied that Arya was perfectly well, she sat on her hind legs, looking up expectantly. Arya smiled a small smile; this was what Nymeria did when she was ready to hunt.

Arya looked her direwolf right in the eyes, "Go hunt. When you return, find me. But make sure your pack stays in the woods." She told her, never breaking eye contact. She could feel the questioning looks from those around her, and knew they thought she was somewhat crazy thinking a wolf could understand such a command. But Nymeria was a direwolf, and she blinked once before turning and bounding back out of the gate.

Arya looked at the two men on the gate, "I have given Nymeria a command, and she will follow it. You would be wise to let her through the gate when she returns." She told them, "She will get through, one way or another. But at least if you let her through, there will be no bloodshed." Arya warned, before turning and following one of guards who had taken to leading her men around the castle.

"Your men will be able to camp in the tilt-yard: all the rooms and towers are taken – though His Grace will be able to find a room for you," The guard addressed Arya, as Maester Mathos came along side her with her horse in tow.

"I can remain with my men," Arya said, taking the reigns, "I would not wish to be an inconvenience."

"His Grace gave orders to find you a room, so a room you will have." The guard stated.

"Take the room, My Lady." Maester Mathos said quietly, "You're men will not think less of you. On the contrary, it will do them good to see you treated like the Princess you are by rights."

"I will see my men settled, and then I shall follow you back to the castle." Arya conceded, and the guard left them saying he would send someone out to them in an hour or so to take them to the bathhouse.

It took less than an hour for her and her men to set up camp, small in number as they were, and once the horses were unsaddle and tethered, Arya spoke quickly to the men who had become part of her council. Lothor Knott, Brynden Norrey, Roddick Liddle and Martyn Wull had all naturally emerged as leaders of the men as they travelled north, and it was these men who gathered around her now, along with Maester Mathos, to hear details of her meeting with Prince Aegon.

"He has given us what was requested, with very little argument." Arya said, "In all honesty, I am surprised by how little argument he presented." She admitted.

"You can be quite persuasive, My Lady," Lothor said with a grin, "You speak with a confidence that shows you believe you will have your way in the end, and that resistance with you is futile."

Arya gave a small shrug, "A man who fears losing, has already lost." She repeated the words Syrio Forel once spoke to her. "And besides, I believe that what I told them they already knew, with regards to the attitude of the north. I could see it their eyes, when I told them we would never kneel to the Iron Throne again, it did not come as a surprise: I don't think they had fully admitted it to themselves, but they knew I had the right of it."

"So what do we do now?" Roddick asked.

"We will remain here a few days – three at the most – to rest ourselves and when we leave we will be accompanied by fifty of Aegon's own men. I will acquire us some maps, and go through our route on the Morrow. I will also be able to tell you more of our full intentions tomorrow, after I have spoken again with Prince Aegon and his council. But when we leave, we will be going in search of the Brotherhood without Banners." She told them.

"Is that wise?" Mathos cautioned.

"Necessary." Arya stated, "Before I left Westeros, I spent many months with the Brotherhood," she told her men, "I have just heard the rumours that they may be looking for me – and have been since I disappeared. If we do not find them, they will find us. Besides, their numbers will be useful to us."

"You're thinking of bringing them under your banner?" Roddick confirmed.

"I am counting on it." Arya said, "But we will discuss it more on the Morrow, when we are better rested." She declared, looking up toward the entrance of the large tent. "Someone should be coming to show you around, I'm sure you are all desirous of bathing. We shall meet again in the large hall in a couple of hours for supper." She said, just as two new persons arrived: A young lad, and an even younger girl.

"Beg pardons for the interruption, Milady." The lad spoke, addressing her with a formal bow. "I was told to escort your men to the bath house. Lucie here is to escort you to a room where you may bathe in peace." he announced.

"Thank you. If you wait out side, my men will gather and follow you. Give me a moment, Lucie, and I will follow you directly." Arya said, moving to pick up her bedroll that contained her possessions, and slinging her quiver of bow and arrows over he shoulder and leaving the tent, saying over her shoulder as she went, "Tell your men what I have told you, I will see you all at supper."

Lucie led her through several corridors before ascending a good way up a spiral staircase, coming to a stop at a door where the Princess Arianne was waiting for them.

"I hope this room is acceptable, My Lady." Arianne announced with cold courtesy, "You must forgive me, with no prior knowledge of your arrival, nor your intention of staying, I was a little rushed."

"I've been sleeping on the ground for six weeks, and in a cramped cabin for a month before that," Arya said, "I am sure the room will be more than acceptable. I thank you for your hospitality. Are you ever going to tell me why you hate me so?" She then asked, "Or are you just going to continue to glare at me every time you see me?"

"I do not hate you." Arianne stiffly, "I just do not trust you."

"Why?" Arya asked.

"You are a Stark," Arianne declared, "Fraternising with a Stark woman has done us little good in the past."

Arya allowed herself a laugh, though her eyes showed no amusement, "Usually my name invokes trust: the honour of a Stark is almost legendary. But I see your concern. Rest assured, Arianne, I have no intention of involving my myself in a repeat of history: The likeness between my Aunt and I stops at looks, I have no desire to run away with a dragon belonging to a Martel." Arya then moved past Arianne into the room, depositing her belongings onto the bed, and immediately began to strip from her clothes to climb into the tub of hot water waiting for her.

The girl remained with Arya, helping her to wash her hair – something that Arya was reluctant to allow at first, but after nearly making Lucie cry, Arya tried to be extra nice. When the water had turned cold, and Arya had been scrubbed clean, she removed herself from the tub and sat in front of the fire to try and dry her hair, while Lucie went to remove Arya's clothes from her pack.

"Would you like me to fetch up the rest of your things, My Lady?" Lucie asked meekly, after pulling out the two dresses and the spare set of tunic and breeches, and clean underclothes.

Arya gave an amused smile, but stopped herself from laughing, "That is everything I have with me. I like to travel light – you move quicker that way." She said. "I'll wear the grey dress this evening." She said, standing. Thinking back to Mathos' earlier words, it would be good for her men to see her as a Lady – or Princess, as she supposed she technically was. Lucie helped her on with her gown, before pulling Arya's hair into a braid that knotted at the nape of her neck. Fastening her sword and dagger back around her waist, she exited her room and made for the hall; she most likely didn't need her steel, but she always felt better with Needle at her side.

When she entered the hall, she found her men seated on a table at the end of the hall, each and every one rose when she joined them, and she saw more than one appreciative glance as they took in their leader dressed like a woman for the first time.

"You don't have to rise on my account," Arya smiled, taking a seat, "Who has the wine?" She asked.

"Allow me, My Lady." Brynden Norrey said quietly; he was the youngest of her leading men, and fairly quiet – at first glance one wouldn't put him as an obvious leader, but he had a way with words that left little objection and he instilled such loyalty that men would willingly follow him off a cliff if he asked them to.

"Thank you, Bryn." Arya smiled, "You were quiet earlier, when we discussed searching for the Brotherhood." She said as she was served food by a passing serving girl. "What are your thoughts?"

"I will reserve judgement until you tell us more." Brynden said simply. "But I swore my sword to you, I will follow wherever you lead. I trust your decisions." He told her.

At that moment there was a commotion at the doors; dogs began barking, and a few men let out a string of curses in shock and fear. Turning to view the commotion, Arya saw Nymeria making her way past tables and benches. Arya joined in with her men and laughed at the reactions of others – it had taken some time, but her men had become used to Nymeria's presence, and it seemed that just like her master, the direwolf held a certain charm that no one could resist. Nymeria laid at the bench on which Arya was sat, pushing her head into the space between Arya's legs and Brynden's.

"Here," Arya said, feeding her some food from her plate, "Though I know you've already eaten." She told the wolf: ever since Nymeria had returned to her side, their connection had grown stronger, and now Arya didn't need to slip into Nymeria's skin to sense her feelings. And right now, Nymeria was feeling the satisfaction of recently sated hunger, the taste of blood still lingering in her mouth. After eating her fill, Arya took her goblet and meandered through the hall with Nymeria at her back, failing to notice the many appreciative glances thrown her way by many of the men in the room, to take a seat next to Maester Samwell, whom she hadn't spoken to since their arrival. Out of everyone she had travelled with, Sam was the only one whom didn't cower at the first sight of Nymeria, and the direwolf had taken an almost immediate liking to him. When they reached him, Nymeria gave him the same look she had given Arya, and Sam was about to feed her some leftovers when Arya stopped him.

"Don't bother, Sam." Arya smiled, taking a seat, "She's already been given plenty from my men and I. And she's been hunting. She's just being greedy."

Sam smiled shyly, and put the scraps back on the table, while Nymeria gave Arya a reproachful look, before settling on the floor.

"You set off again tomorrow?" Arya asked.

Sam nodded, "Yes. Prince Aegon has given us men from his dungeon, and Big Al has convinced a few boys to follow us as well. Are you continuing with us?" He asked.

Arya shook her head, "No. Prince Aegon and I have more to discuss. I'll be here another day, possibly two." She said, "I'll miss you Sam." Arya told him suddenly, "I've enjoyed talking with you, about Jon. It's nice to know he has a good friend."

As they had travelled from Oldtown, Arya had grown to like Sam more and more. The more time they spent together, the less shy he became and the more he talked. Before long, he could even look at her while talking to her. Sam also had a gift with animals: as well as befriending Nymeria quickly, Arya's raven had also taken a shine to the man – and thanks to Sam, the raven's vocabulary had expanded to include words in the common tongue, as well as Braavosi.

"I'll miss you too." Sam said, so quietly Arya almost missed it, "You're very like Jon. Not many people have patience with me, or listen to what I say; I think they find me boring. It's nice to have someone listen." He said simply.

"Sam, I have a favour to ask of you, as you travel north." Arya said, "Two favours actually."

Sam nodded, "Anything." He smiled.

"When you reach the North, will you and your brothers spread word of my return? I know whispers will have already left Oldtown, but I want more than whispers. I need men,but they won't come to me if the don't know about me. Of course, you will have to show discretion when choosing whom to tell: The Greyjoys, for example, can go without knowing for a while longer. And no one needs to know about my alliance with Prince Aegon," she added, "the less people who know about that, the better for both of us I would think. I don't want to risk word of our alliance reaching the Lannisters anytime soon." Arya said thoughtfully, glancing up at the top table, before looking back at Sam. "Could you do that?"

Sam nodded, "Of course. But the more people we tell, the quicker it will get to the Iron Men, eventually. It's likely they will be ready for you by the time you make it past the Neck." He said.

Arya nodded, "I know." She said, "Leave that to me, I'll figure something out."

"You said there were two favours." Sam reminded her.

"Yes." Arya smiled, and pulled out a scroll from her sleeve, "Could you deliver this to Jon. It is only a small note, telling him of my intentions, and that I am still alive." She said. Sam nodded, "Thank you, Sam." She said, before taking her leave of him, and going to say her farewells to Big Al and young Calloway.

The next morning found Arya once again in Prince Aegon's map room, this time with his entire council present, and accompanied by two of her own men: Brynden Norrey and Roddick Liddle.

Arya and her men remained silent as Aegon told his council of the plans he had begun to form yesterday.

"With Lady Stark, and the Brotherhood, keeping the Lannisters at the Rock from crossing the Riverlands, we should have enough strength to take King's Landing, once the Dornish armies join us." Aegon declared to his men, and Arya noted a few wary faces.

"How can we be certain Lady Stark will succeed with the Brotherhood?" One of the men asked; Arya believed his name was Strickland.

"Because I never fail." Arya spoke confidently. "The certainty of the Brotherhood is not what we need to discuss. Timing is what we should be focusing on. You would be foolish to set forth until I have reached the brotherhood. If you can spare me half a dozen ravens, to take with me when my men and I leave, I can keep you informed of my progress." She said.

"Ravens can be intercepted," Strickland spoke again, as Aegon was nodding his acquiescence.

"Then I will send men back with a message – but Raven's will be quicker. Prince Aegon is to send fifty men with me, two can return with a message if need be." Arya compromised.

"We can surmise, however, that it will take the Dornish armies as long to reach Storms End as it will for Lady Stark to gain the Brotherhood. Arianne, you should send for them." Aegon said.

"No." Arya said immediately, causing all of Aegon's men to stare at her abruptness.

"No?" Asked Arianne, clearly offended, "I serve Aegon, not you." She said.

"Dorne holds Myrcella, but Aegon holds you," Arya said directly to Arianne, "The allegiance of Dorne is in question - "

"How dare-" Arianne began to explode, but Arya spoke over her.

"Let me finish!" She commanded, "The allegiance of Dorne is in question among the common folk, and no doubt by the Lannisters also. You would be wise to use this to your advantage." Arya said carefully.

"Go on." Lord Connington said slowly, after a moment of silence.

"Call the army, but have them follow you a day or so behind, instead of join you." Arya said, "Leave people wondering: are they marching to join you? Or are they marching to take you in the rear?" She let the assumption hang in the air for a moment, before pressing on, "Plus, if you march on King's Landing without the Dornish host, you will seem a lot less of a threat, than if you march with them." She pointed out.

"And the Lannisters won't take the threat to King's Landing as seriously." Aegon finished. "Especially if they believe reinforcements will be coming from the Riverlands."

"You may even want to try and get a handful of men in there, before you attack. Bring them down from the inside out." Arya suggested.

The room was silent for a moment, and Arya had nothing more to say; her own course was of no significance to these men, and she wasn't about to indulge their curiosity that showed plainly on many of their faces.

"If we are done with my part in this, I will take my leave." Arya said, rising as she spoke, "No doubt you and your men have much and more to discuss."

She left them to it, returning with her own men to the tiltyard, where Nymeria was waiting for her by Maester Mathos who was tending to her raven.

"You'll have half a dozen more to tend to, come the Morrow." Arya said as she walked up to him, "Though I'm sure they won't give you half as much trouble as this one does." She said, as the bird took flight to perch itself on Arya's shoulder; it left her from time to time, to explore the surrounding area, but most of the time it either remained it's cage or on her shoulder.

"Do we leave on the Morrow?" Mathos asked, and Arya nodded.

"Yes, as soon as we break our fast, we will be ready to depart. Aegon will gather the men he is to send this evening, and they will join our camp at first light. Prince Aegon has also been kind enough to supply us with maps, a range of provisions, and another few tents." She told him. "Now, I am going to go to the training yard, and see what kind of men fight for the future King on the Iron Throne." Arya left the camp with Nymeria trotting at her heels; it had been a while since she had trained properly with a longsword.

She had been in the yard only ten minutes, but she was already drawing a crowd, as she went up against one of the younger men whom the Master at Arms had been training. He was a good mover, quick and agile, and matched Arya well, but in the end, Arya got the upper hand and got him to yield. After taking on another couple of newly trained boys, Arya stepped back from the yard to where Mathos and Lothor Knott had been watching on the sidelines.

"I've heard stories, from my Uncle, about your Aunt Lyanna." Mathos said with a smile, "Apparently she was good with a blade, though her father would never permit her to carry one. But I believe you have the edge on her, that's quite some talent you have." He told her.

"I have many more talents like it, I can assure you." Arya said. Before the conversation could progress, a young boy of about thirteen came toward them and spoke hesitantly to Arya.

"I never seen anyone fight like that." The lad said, "You were really good, but I've never seen that fighting style before."

Arya grinned, "The Water Dance of Braavos." She told him, "Or a version of it, at least. Do you know how to use a sword?"

The boy shrugged, "Some." He said, "I watch them every day when they do lessons. And I practice with branches and the like. But I haven't wielded proper steel against steel. And I never learnt that dance you said."

"What's your name?" Arya asked, looking at the boy carefully; he wasn't a highborn, that much she could see, and hear in his accent. He was nearly of a height with her, and well built; he had the makings of a good fighter, if he were to be given the right training. He also had a truthful face: lying would not come easy to this boy, she believed.

"Lomnick Storm." He said with a frown, "But people call me Lommy."

"I once knew a boy called Lommy," Arya said, an old memory coming back to her, one she thought was long forgotten. Before she could dwell she looked over at Lothor.

"Knott," Arya called out, "Would you be so kind as to lend my your sword?" She asked.

"Of course," Lothor said, somewhat confused, offering her his hilt. Arya withdrew the blade, tossed it from hand to hand, before offering the hilt in turn to Lommy.

Lommy looked at it wide eyed before looking back up at Arya, clearly unsure. "Wh...What..?" He stammered.

"Take it," Arya urged, "Lets see how well you've been observing." She said. When Lommy took the blade, Arya withdrew her own longsword from its sheath, and took up her stance. "Mirror me." She said.

Lommy looked at Arya's stance, and copied it hesitantly, when he got it right Arya smiled, "You're standing sideface." She explained, "It presents a smaller target to you enemy, thus making it harder for you to be hit. Now, lets dance." She said, and she parried forward, though she didn't use her full strength and speed.

Lommy had good reflexes, and knocked back every one of her thrusts, gaining in confidence with each block, as Arya gently coached him, "That's good." She told him, "You've been watching closely. With the right training you could be a very a good fighter."

At that moment, a young woman, who could only be Lommy's mother, came up to the group, shouting at the top of her lungs. "Lommy! What in seven hells do you think you're playing at?! Who did you steal that from?!"

"I didn't steal anything!" Lommy protested, turning red, clearly embarrassed by the scene.

"My apologies, My Lady." The woman said to Arya, "My son has been taught his proper place, but I'm afraid he oft forgets himself." She said, thwacking her son's head.

"Ow!" Lommy complained, rubbing the back of his head, while she hissed at him to give the sword back. Lommy handed the sword back to Lothor with a mumbled 'sorry' and 'thank you', now even redder than before.

"No apologies are needed." Arya said kindly, "Your son told me about watching the boys train, he said he practiced some himself. I offered him the steel, to try against me. Lommy has talent. Have you ever thought of squiring?" she asked the boy, but it was the mother who answered with a laugh.

"Squiring?!" She said, "He is no Lord's lesser son, he's a bastard and I'm just a kitchen wench. Who's going to look to the likes of him to be a squire, when there's better blood to pick from?" She said with a shake of her head.

Arya frowned, "Blood doesn't make a person what they are. There are some with the noblest of blood who wouldn't be able squire if their life depended on it." She said, and then shrugged, "I'd have him as my squire." She said suddenly, and the woman snorted.

"You have him then." She said, "Gods know, I could do with one less mouth to feed. He's got no steel mind, no armour or ought the like. All he has is what's on him now."

"I'm sure we'll find him something," Arya said, before looking at Lommy, "How about it? Do you want to be my squire while I take back the North? My men can train you to fight with steel while we travel, I can teach you the Water Dance, and archery, and some other useful things. Serve well and you could make it as a Knight, I can give you a title and lands; once I take back what is mine I will have the entire North at my disposal." She told him.

"Do you really mean it?" Lommy asked, looking like he didn't dare believe his ears.

Arya nodded, "Yes. But if you agree to follow me, there's no turning back, or turning your cloak. Cut me down, but it's you who has further to fall: If you betray me, either I will get you, or Nymeria will." She warned, glancing at the direwolf.

Lommy looked at the wolf, then back at Arya and nodded, before dropping to his knees, "I'm yours, milady." He said.

Arya smiled and looked at Lothor, "Knott, take him to the tent and introduce him to the men, and see about kitting him out and get him started with his training."

"Aye, My Lady," Lothor said, dragging Lommy to his feet, "Welcome to the pack, Lad." He said pushing him forward, "now let's get moving."

"Treat him well." The woman said, as she watched her son walk away.

"Of course." Arya said, "He's a squire to a Stark, well is the only way he'll be treated." She assured her, before following the others to the camp.

That night she dined at the high table with Prince Aegon and Arianne; while Arianne was still distant, she was a little less cold at least, and conversation was pleasant enough. Arya was awake at the break of dawn, gathering up her belongings she made her way to where her men were starting to stir and beginning to pack up ready to leave. It only took a couple of hours before they were on their way, accompanied by fifty of Aegon's men, who at first were flying Aegon's banner.

"You can put that down right now." Arya declared, "You don't see my banner flying: best we keep low for now." The men obeyed immediately, for which Arya was glad.

Her squire rode at her one side, Nymeria trotted at the other and her grey raven perched on her shoulder, squawking the odd word here and there, sometimes in Braavosi, sometimes in the common tongue.

When they moved out, they avoided the main road, keeping instead to the other side of the Kingswood. The closer they got to the Roseroad, the more Lannister outriders they began to come across; those that Nymeria and her pack didn't take out, Arya and her men finished off with little problem. Lommy bloodied his sword ten days into the march and was clearly pleased with himself.

Lommy would train with a different man of Arya's council each night after they made camp, and occasionally Arya would have him join her when she hunted birds and squirrels in the forest, teaching him the basics of the bow and arrow. They crossed the Roseroad two weeks after leaving Storms End, and from then on, it was relatively open land that they were crossing as they progressed further into the Reach. The further North they travelled, the deeper the snows became, though Arya knew they were nothing compared to the snow drifts of the North.

They had been travelling a total of three weeks when they were nearing the place where the Blackwater crossed the Goldroad. Every night, Arya slipped into Nymeria's skin and scouted the surrounding area, usually finding nothing except the odd Lannister scout here and there. But tonight was different; the scout she saw wasn't wearing Lannister crimson, and he wore no sigil on his surcoat. Arya could feel that Nymeria wanted to attack, but Arya held her back wanting to know more. She moved around the scout unseen, padding silently on four paws, despite the deep snow she was moving through. Further on she saw a camp, and counted at least a dozen men. _Come back_ Arya thought, commanding Nymeria, before pulling back into herself.

She rose from her bed in the tent that Aegon had supplied her, which she shared with Mathos and Lommy, and moved out into the camp. She pulled Lommy to the side, along with Roddick, Martyn, Lothor and Brynden – her four stealthiest men. When they were a good distance from the fire, she spoke.

"We have company." She said quietly, showing no emotion, "They're hidden in the woods, only a dozen of them at camp. Probably the same number surrounding on all sides." None of her men questioned how she knew this, they just accepted that she did – perhaps they suspected of her unique relationship with Nymeria, but they never spoke it aloud.

"What do you want us to do?" Martyn asked, getting right to the point.

"We approach with caution. As quiet as possible." Arya whispered, "I want to take them by surprise; but they aren't bearing any sigils or colours." she explained.

"You think it might be members of the Brotherhood?" Brynden asked, ever the quick thinker.

"It's a possibility, but by no means a certainty, so we shouldn't let our guard down." Arya replied, "Try to refrain from killing – if they are part of the Brotherhood, I would hate for us to get off on the wrong foot. Get the upper hand, and find out who they are." She told them, "And stick as close together as possible."

"Why am I here?" Lommy whispered, and Arya grinned at him, she realised she had been ordering her men, saying 'you' instead of 'us'.

"Do you think I'd send out men and miss all the fun myself?" Arya asked him, "We're going first." She told him. "No plate and mail, only leathers. We want to be as quiet as possible."

Nymeria came into the camp at that moment; coming from behind Arya's tent, she sat on her hindquarters and waited patiently. Arya nodded to the men and moved, Lommy half a step behind her, the other four half a step behind him. They were walking for half an hour, following Nymeria into the woods, before Arya held up a hand in a silent command to stop.

Closing her own eyes, she looked out through Nymeria's that were better able to see in the pressing darkness. She saw three men, relatively close together; one directly in front, the others on either side. Opening her eyes, she looked at Martyn and Roddick and pointed them in the direction of the man to the left, before looking and Brynden and Lothor and signalling them to go right. Looking at Lommy, she signalled that they were moving straight ahead. She gave the signal and they all moved quiet and swift, though none as quiet and swift as Arya. When they accosted the unsuspecting lookouts, a small ruckus ensued: steel clashed with steel and shouts went up; the lookouts put up a good fight, but by the time the rest of the camp came to their men's aid Arya and her men had the three lookouts with steel at their throats, close together, with Nymeria patrolling between Arya's group and others.

"Put down your weapons, answer my questions, and your men will not be harmed." Arya called out clearly, "Attack us, and Nymeria and her pack will eat well tonight." In response to her words, howls erupted from all sides, giving the others pause. Slowly, steel and bows were lowered, and one of the men stepped forward cautiously.

Nymeria growled when she thought he came too close, but the man sheathed his sword slowly, and held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. He was close enough for Arya to make out some of his features. "Arya Stark?" he asked slowly.

Arya's grip on the blade she held at the lookout's throat didn't let up, despite her suspicion that these men may in fact be friends. "Who are you?" She demanded, though she thought she knew. She thought she recognised his features, but in the dark she was cautious.

The man smiled, "You once begged me to recognise you, a few years back, when you were travelling from Harranhal, disguised as a simple page, in the company of a baker and a blacksmith." She said, his smile broadening. "And now, I'm begging you to remember me."

Arya's breath hitched, and she even felt relief flooding through her. She relaxed her hold on the lookout. "Harwin." She said in recognition, releasing the lookout form her grip, giving a small smile of her own.

"At you service, My Lady." Harwin smiled, going down to one knee. "Stand down, men. This is Lady Arya Stark, heir to the Winterfell and the North."

* * *

**_A/N: So not a lot of action, but we're moving closer to it. And, of course, we're now one step closer to that meeting we're all so desperate for. Next chapter: Gendry. _**

**_Let me know what you thought, thanks for reading. Keep up to date with my progress on Twitter - follow me CelticPagan3 :)_**

**_xBx_**


	7. Chapter 7: Gendry

**_A/N: Okay, finally got the next chapter uploaded (I have been having a few technical issues - mainly my laptop has been having a bitch fit all day.)_**

**_Thanks for all my reviews, you guys are great :) and congrats to calisi87 who found the hidden lyric in last chapter. The lyric was: 'cut me down, but it's you who has further to fall.' From the song _****Titanium******_**by **_**David Guetta ft Sia.**_**This chapter has a Lady Antebellum lyric hidden in there.**_

_**Hope you enjoy :) - quick note, this chapter overlaps with the last, time wise.**_

**_xBx _**

* * *

**Chapter 7: Gendry**

It had only taken Gendry and Harwin a little over a week to reach Stoney Sept, as they travelled hard; many a night they took it in turns to sleep in their saddles, while the other led, and only stopped to rest the horses, when they could no longer keep going. Lady Stoneheart had been settled at the Sept for many months by the time Gendry got there, with a number of men equally settled. Thoros and his men had arrived a week before, but there were many men still to return.

As soon as they arrived at Stoney Sept, boys came to take their horses to the stable and Tansy emerged from the Peach with a smile and warm welcome like she always did.

"My, haven't you grown since last you came by," She said appreciatively toward Gendry, slapping his cheek with affection, "My girls'll be happy to see you, and make no mistake." She grinned.

Gendry mumbled something incoherent, not in the mood for such pleasantries: he was tired, cold and hungry, and the only thing running through his mind at that moment was a memory of the first time he had visited Stoney Sept, when he had argued with Arya after calling her his sister – he still didn't fully understand why they had lost their temper at each other, but the memory still hurt nonetheless.

"We'll be wanting a room, and a tub." Harwin said, "But first we need to find Lady Stoneheart." He told her, causing Tansy's smile to falter.

"As you will; she's across the way. Keeps to herself most of the time, though her men are always to-ing and fro-ing." Tansy shrugged, "Tom's inside, shall I send him along after you?"

Harwin thought for a moment and then nodded, "Aye, he should be part of this." He decided before turning away, Gendry close at his heel. They walked to the small manse that Lady Stoneheart had taken up residence in.

Gendry had remained silent through the entire meeting: Harwin had told Lady Stoneheart all that he had told Gendry; it transpired that Lem, Anguy and Tom had all heard similar rumours, and had reported back a few weeks ago. As Harwin had anticipated, Lady Stoneheart had not been too pleased that Gendry had been given precedence over her, but Gendry couldn't care less. His priority had always been finding what had happened to Arya; Lady Stoneheart's had been revenge.

The rest of the brotherhood had been summoned back to the Sept, and they were only waiting on Ned Dayne and his men to return, before they were intending to send out a number of men in different directions to hunt down the Ghost of Lyanna Stark. Gendry held back the disgruntled noise he wanted to make, but he was sure his scowl was clearly visible on his face: to this day he disliked the Lord of Starfall, he was arrogant and pompous, and nowhere nears as good a fighter as he boasted. Simply the mention of his name was enough to stir the bile in Gendry's stomach. But Ned dayne was a Lord and Gendry was just a bastard - there was nothing he could do.

After the plans were outlined - mostly by Thoros, as Lady Stoneheart could barely speak - Gendry was finally brought directly into the conversation.

Lady Stoneheart looked directly at Gendry with cold eyes, and an expression that bordered on contempt, "Swords." She rasped out, "Armour."

Gendry nodded once, understanding perfectly, "With everyone gathering you need them equipped. You want me to mend armour, make swords." He said, and Lady Stoneheart nodded.

"Show me to the forge and I'll make a start." Gendry said, moving to the door not asking permision to leave, and Harwin followed him to show him the way.

The pair walked in silence, Gendry too wound up to speak: for the first time since losing Arya's trail at Saltpans, there was a real hope of finding her again, and there were too many emotions struggling within him to know what he was truly feeling – hitting steel would be a perfect distraction in that moment. The forge was cold and dark when they entered, and clearly had not been used for some time.

"I'm going to need a hand to get this place up and running," Gendry said, tossing his pack into a corner, "Send a lad out here, will you?" He asked Harwin, who just nodded.

"You don't want to eat first?" Harwin asked, but Gendry just shook his head, and moved to start lighting a fire. A half hour later, a young lad meekly entered the forge carrying a tray of food and ale.

"Harwin told me to come to you." He said simply.

Gendry nodded, "You ever been in a forge?" he asked quickly and the boy shook his head. "Want to learn to work one?" He asked, and the boy's eyes widened as he nodded.

"Alright, first things first: get that fire burning hotter than the seven hells." He told him, before pouring himself a mug of ale.

For the next week Gendry remained in the forge, day and night, only leaving to visit the Godswood he found his first day there; there was a room above with a bed and blankets where he slept. The boy Harwin had sent him that first night was named Brett, and turned out to be a hard worker and a quick learner. Harwin dropped in from time to time, to keep Gendry up to date with the arrivals, usually staying only five minutes.

Seven nights after their arrival, Harwin was leaning in the doorway watching Gendry work with a thoughtful look. Eventually he spoke,

"Brett," He called, "Run to the Peach and grab something to drink." He said, tossing the boy a coin, which he deftly caught, before leaving the two men alone. Gendry put down his tools and turned to give Harwin his full attention.

"Ned got back this morning." Harwin said, "Which means we're setting out tomorrow."

"Who's going where?" Gendry asked.

"I will be following the Blackwater on its south side, to where it crosses the Goldroad, and continuing south. Thoros will be going east, keeping south of the Godseye, and north of the Blackwater, heading toward the Kingsroad." Harwin explained, "And Ned will be going South, and South East, taking a more direct route over the Reach down towards Oldtown." Gendry nodded, and Harwin continued.

"Now you have to decide, what you're are going to do: Are you going to come with one of us, and if so who? Or are you going to wait here?" Harwin asked.

"I can't just sit back-" Gendry began, running his hand through his hair, "She's been gone for so long now, I gotta get back to her somehow." He said, and he hated how desperate he sounded.

Harwin nodded, and then spoke carefully, "Bear in mind, that whoever finds her will bring her directly back here: If you go with Thoros, and it is I who find her, I will be back at the Sept before you know we've found her. Although," Harwin admitted, "Thoros will likely see it in his flames. Alternatively, if you come with me and it is Ned that finds her, she'll be here long before we get wind of it."

Gendry thought hard, a pained expression on his face, "Whoever finds her, will bring her straight back here." He repeated. And Harwin nodded.

"And if you want to see her before Lady Stoneheart does, your best bet would be to stay right here. Plus you have a lot of weapons to mend and make." Harwin pointed out.

"Is the Brotherhood planning on joining with her, to take the North?" Gendry asked, "If the rumours are true." He added, not wanting to get ahead of himself.

Harwin shrugged, and shook his head, "I don't know what Lady Stoneheart's intentions are, but the Brotherhood have to fight for something. Why not the North? And I'd much rather lay my sword at the feet of a Lady Stark, rather than a Lady Stoneheart." He added.

Gendry nodded again, "I'll stay," he said warily: as much as it pained him to stay behind while others searched, Harwin made a good point – the last thing he wanted was Arya turning up at Stoney Sept when he was somewhere on the other side of the Reach.

Harwin nodded at his decision and turned to leave, but Gendry called him back when he reached the door.

"Harwin!" Gendry said, aware of the desperation seeping into his voice, "Find her," He practically begged. Harwin simply nodded, and left.

That had been a full moon's turn ago, and by now Gendry's short temper was wearing unbearably thin, but thankfully he had plenty of work to distract him: When the brotherhood returned to the Sept, they brought with them plate, mail and weapons taken from the number of Lannisters that had fallen, as well as taking the same from their own fallen comrades. A lot of the skirmishes had been rather violent, which meant there was plenty of armour to mend, and plenty of swords to re-work. Gendry spent his days in the forge, only leaving it to grab something to eat and drink at the Peach and to pray in the Godswood that was just outside the town walls.

Three search parties had been sent out to look for Lyanna's ghost, and the remaining men of the Brotherhood were remaining at Stoney Sept, leaving for a few days at a time to deliver justice throughout the Riverlands and bring back as many fresh supplies as they could. As such, the town was crowded, with nearly all the buildings once again occupied and a steadily growing camp building up outside the main gates to the town, so that now the gates remained open at all times, with two men standing guard night and day.

After weeks of hearing nothing, they were given a reprieve two days ago when a rider from Thoros' party had returned with news that was both good and yet frustrating. According to the man, they had met with a group travelling north to the Wall: Three men of the Night's Watch, taking up new recruits. After questioning the brothers they had found the information they had been looking for: Lyanna's ghost was no ghost, but the last Stark, Lady Arya, who had returned to Westeros and was moving North to take back her home. According to the men in black, they had left her at Storms End, but she was planning to set forth only days after them. Thoros was remaining where he was: if she was following the same route, she should pass by him in a matter of days, his messenger said.

Brett had proved a useful assistant in the past weeks, learning quickly and sorting through the mountain of steel, separating the good from the bad, and melting down what couldn't be mended. The more time Brett spent at the forge, the more comfortable he became, and the less intimidated he was of Gendry. Unfortunately this made him more talkative and some days Gendry was asked a barrage of questions about anything and everything, from the simple and mundane to the downright personal. He also happened to be good at keeping the place in order – something Gendry had never been particularly careful about.

"Are you ever going to fully unpack your things?" Brett asked, as he lifted Gendry's half emptied pack from a corner.

Gendry shrugged, "If I need something that's in there, I'll get it." He said simply.

"What's even in here?" Bret asked peering in, "Just looks like a load of rags." He commented pulling it out. Gendry ignored him, and continued to work on the sword he had been making from some of the melted down scraps of steel.

"Ow! Seven hells!" Brett cursed, dropping the rags he had been untangling. Gendry looked up at the commotion.

"What are you doing?" Gendry asked with a frown. Brett ignored the question, and moved to the rags, shaking them free and unearthing a bronze circlet with steel blade tips adorning over half the circumference; the centre blade was the biggest, with the blades on either side becoming marginally smaller, until they disappeared into the bronze.

"What is it?" Brett asked with a frown of his own and picking up the circlet gingerly.

"What does it look like?" Gendry snapped, "Put it back."

"It looks like a crown." Brett said, examining the find closely, "When did you smith for a King?" he asked.

"Does that look like it was made for the head of a King?" Gendry asked, setting down his tools and walking over to roughly take the crown from Brett's hands.

"No," Brett admitted, "Looks too feminine for a King. It's beautiful work though." He said, as Gendry bundled it back into a rag and shoved it back into his pack.

"Who did you make it for?" Brett pressed.

Gendry let out a frustrated sigh, "I made it as a peace offering to a girl I once angered." He said, thinking back to the last weeks he had spent with Arya. "She was a princess, by rights, though she didn't much act like one. Now, mind your own business and get back to work." He said, not wanting to delve further into the memories.

Brett, unfortunately, was not one to let the subject drop, regardless of Gendry's command. "It's not very fancy, for a princess – wouldn't she have preferred something more…bright and girly?" he asked. "In gold maybe?"

Gendry actually snorted, "She wasn't your average princess." He said with a small smile, "She was small, but dangerous: like the crown – it looks small and delicate, but it's made of good steel and strong bronze and it's wicked sharp. You have a sword of steel and a sword of gold," he said to Brett, "Which one is the best?"

"The gold will look good and fancy, but steel is stronger. Wins every time." Brett said, as if the question had been stupid.

"Exactly." Was all that Gendry said, before going back to work. Brett was silent for a while and Gendry thought that was the end of it.

"This princess," Brett said slowly after nearly half an hour of silent work. Gendry closed his eyes and let out a slow breath at Brett continued, "Is she the one who everyone has gone looking for? The one who was with the brotherhood years ago? Arya Stark, the Northern Princess?"

"What's it to you?" Gendry snapped, not looking up, so he missed the shrug Brett gave.

"Just wondered what she's like is all." Brett mumbled.

Gendry thought for a moment, "Steel." He said, "She's like good steel: strong and sharp and hard. She doesn't break easy." He said, thinking back to everything she had endured since they had both left King's Landing. They worked in silence for the rest of the afternoon, and when the sun began to set Gendry sent Brett off to eat, telling him would follow when he had finished working on the sword.

He was still hammering away when the distant sounds of commotion filtered through the doorway; he listened carefully to the sounds of hoof beats and dogs barking, but no horn was blown: in all likelihood it was just another band of men returning from a trip into the Riverlands. The first time Gendry had heard a similar commotion his heart-rate accelerated, his palms became sweaty and his stomach was a twisted knot of nerves, thinking that someone had returned with Arya in tow. But after four weeks of disappointed hopes, he didn't dare to bother to become excited at the noise, so he went back to pounding the steel, putting it in and out of the furnace when needed. He had been working harder than usual this afternoon, after the re-discovery of the small crown, in an attempt to ignore the memories pushing at the forefront of his mind, and as a result his tunic was sticking to his sweat covered body and his hair was sticking to his foreheard.

He put down his hammer and swept his arm across his forehead to wipe away the moisture that had built there, before plunging the finished sword into a bucket of water by his side with a satisfying hiss. When the blade had cooled he pulled it out and began to swing it, testing its feel and balance.

"You're still not standing sideface." A female voice said from behind, sounding slightly exasperated.

Gendry whirled around in shock to face the intruder that had nearly scared the life right out of him, managing to kick over the bucket in the process and splashing freezing water over his feet. He wasn't sure what had shocked him more: that someone had so effectually snuck up on him, or the phrase they had used. Only one person had ever told him to stand 'sideface' while wielding a sword. _To present a smaller target_ the memory stirred in him.

Gendry cursed as he looked down, kicking the bucket out of his way, "Who in seven hells are you, and what are you doing sneaking up on me!" He yelled, before looking up. He hadn't recognised the voice that had spoke; while clearly Westerosi, it had a colour of an accent. When he finally saw the person standing just inside the doorway he didn't know what to do, or what to say, and he was even having trouble knowing what to feel.

Standing before him was a young woman in men's breeches and tunic that had been obviously adjusted to fit her form, and while Gendry couldn't help but notice how breathtakingly beautiful she was, it was not that which held his gaze. Her hair was longer than it had been – she had obviously let it grow – and hung in a loose braid over her shoulder, and it was just the colour he remembered. But her eyes gave him pause: they were the perfect colour, the perfect shape, but the fire had gone out and was replaced by a blankness so cold it almost made him shiver. He wasn't sure how long he had been standing there, quite probably looking stupid – if only she would call him out on it; he needed to be sure it was really her, if it wasn't it just might kill him.

She swallowed and gave a small, almost sad, smile, though her eyes remained emotionless. "You don't know who I am." She said simply, and Gendry wished he could know what she was thinking.

"Is it really you, milady?" Gendry asked, barely above a whisper, and his heart skipped a beat when she visibly scowled. He wasn't sure if he wanted to hear the answer: if it wasn't her, he didn't know what he would do. But he couldn't let himself believe it was really she, not until she confirmed it.

"Don't call me milady." She snapped,

"It's really you?" Gendry said, still not daring to believe it, "Arya, you're really here?" The last part came out sounding like a plea, he realised he must have sounded quite pathetic, but in that moment he really didn't care.

"Of course I'm really here," she frowned, "I wouldn't be talking to you if I wasn't. Stupid." She added on the end quietly. There it was: that tone, that _word_. She was there, she was real.

Gendry let out a nervous laugh of relief, and without thinking he dropped the blade on the ground and took two long strides over to where she stood. Not caring about the consequences and not thinking about how she would react, he pulled her into a fierce hug, wrapping his arms around her tightly and breathing in her scent.

"My prayers were answered, after all." He mumbled into her hair, as the scent of snow, mixed with the smells of the forest and wolf enveloped his senses. Arya was stiff for a moment, but finally he heard, and felt, her take in a deep breath, before she slowly circled her arms around his back. He held her a moment longer, before stepping back to look at her again, and only then did he notice the blood matted in her hair, and bruising on her temple.

"What happened?" He asked with a frown, and was surprised when Arya smiled – though the smile didn't quite reach her eyes, it seemed no emotion was ever displayed in them anymore.

"We ran into some Lannisters on our way here. And they ran into our swords." She shrugged, "we lost a couple of men, but they lost of all of theirs."

"Where have you been?" Gendry asked her then, and the smile left her face.

"Nowhere." She said, becoming impassive once more.

"That's it?" Gendry asked after a seconds pause, looking incredulous, "That's all I get? I followed you to Saltpans, I know you took a ship, why won't you tell me where you went?" He demanded, his voice starting to rise and shake.

Arya swallowed, "_You_ followed me?" She asked, "Why? Harwin said he'd followed, but I assumed…" she trailed off.

"Of course I followed you!" Gendry spoke over the end of her dwindling sentence, "Harwin, Thoros and I, as soon as you were taken, we set out at first light, and followed you and the Hound. Why wouldn't I follow you?" he asked.

This was not how he had wanted their reunion to go – true, he hadn't given much thought as to what he would say when he met her again: he wanted to apologise for making her mad, he wanted to apologise for letting her go, but he certainly didn't want to argue.

"You left me." Arya said simply, still not betraying any emotion, which frustrated Gendry. Or rather scared him: what had happened to her in the past four years that had caused her to become so cold?

"You joined the Brotherhood, so you wouldn't have to put up with me anymore: you were going to take me to Riverrun and then leave and never look back." She continued.

"That's what you thought?" Gendry asked, even more regretful of his rash decision than he had been at the time it was made. "Seven hells, no wonder you were angry with me." He said, running his hands through his hair in frustration: never in a million years did he think she would have thought _that_. She was the first true friend he had ever had. No, she was the _only_ true friend he had ever had, he thought she knew that; leaving her had been the last thing on his mind.

Gendry shook his head, "That wasn't my intention." He said.

"Then why did you join them?" Arya snapped, betraying a hint of annoyance, and Gendry was glad to finally hear some of her old self coming through.

Gendry ran his hands through his hair once more, but before he could begin to explain himself, they were interrupted as someone cleared their throat. Gendry and Arya turned to look at the doorway in which Harwin was stood.

"Princess Arya," Harwin said, "Lady Stoneheart is ready to see you." Gendry heard the tension in Harwin's voice, and he thought he saw Arya tense ever so slightly as she nodded, before looking back at Gendry.

"My armour got badly dented," she said after a moment, the small hint of emotion that had been there a moment ago now gone completely. "If I bring it here can you fix it?" she asked.

Gendry nodded, "Of course." He said.

"Thank you." She said, before turning to follow Harwin.

"Wait!" Gendry called her back, suddenly remembering Lady Stoneheart's former self. He reached out to grab Arya's hand, stopping her from continuing and turned her to face him again, "There's something you need to know. Lady Stoneheart, she's… I mean…" Gendry struggled to find the words, trying to ignore the feel of Harwin's gaze burning into him.

"I know who she is." Arya said, once again betraying no emotion, "Harwin told me everything." And with that, she disappeared, leaving Gendry standing there, wondering if that had really happened.

She had been there, really there, right in front of him; he had held her, and felt that she was real. Yet she was not the girl he remembered, the girl he dreamed of many nights, but a woman grown. She was more beautiful than he could have imagined, and yet there were still remnants of the old Arya there, she still liked to dress like a man, she carried steel on her hip, and she apparently still liked to fight. It gave him hope: if there was still some vestiges of the old Arya there, then there had to be more hidden deep inside. Maybe in time she would open up, the coldness behind her eyes might melt, surely something would re-awaken that fire in her?

He was too full of conflicting emotions to fully settle back to work again: he was relieved that she had finally returned, but he was scared that he would wake up tomorrow and find her gone again; he was happy that she had come to find him, yet sad that she seemed so distant towards him.

He wasn't left long to his thoughts as Harwin returned mere moments after taking Arya to Lady Stoneheart.

"So." Harwin said as he entered. "She found you then."

Gendry nodded, and then looked at Harwin, "I'm glad you were the one to find her." He said, before frowning, "She said you ran into some Lannisters?" He asked.

Harwin nodded, "Yes. Biggest band yet: we were lucky they came across us _after_we had joined with Arya's force. The wolves were certainly a help, as well. We think the Lannisters have got wind somehow of a possible attack. It's likely the group we came up against were trying to make their way east, to King's Landing. It's our job to stop them, according to Arya. _Princess_ Arya." Harwin corrected himself before frowning, "Lady Stark?" He questioned, and then shook his head, "I don't really know what her title is, don't even think she really knows right now."

"We swear our swords to her now?" Gendry clarified, "Are the Brotherhood about to finally take some banners?" He asked quietly – what they were talking of was almost treasonous: despite the family connection, they were still discussing overthrowing Lady Stoneheart's command for someone elses.

Harwin took a deep breath, "The brotherhood has been divided over Lady Stoneheart's rule. Half have followed her without question, the other half have looked to me. And you." He added quietly.

Gendry frowned, "I still don't understand why people seem to look to me as their leader." He grumbled, "I've only been here a month."

"It's your look." Harwin said carefully, and Gendry felt he was weighing every word, "It's a look that inspires loyalty."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Gendry snapped.

Harwin shook his head, "That doesn't matter right now. What matters, is that whatever we do, the Brotherhood will follow. Arya has grown up in more ways than I could have thought: she's not blinded when it comes to the real world like many of her age. I've seen her fight, I've heard her talk with her men and I've heard what transpired at Storms End – how she brokered an alliance with the Dragon Prince. There are worse men out there to follow. Arya Stark is a force to be reckoned with." He finished, and Gendry snorted.

"Harwin; _that_ I have known for a long time." Gendry said. "Don't ask," He added with a shake of his head, seeing Harwin's frown, and thinking of the extreme lengths she would go to, to in order to get what she wanted.

Harwin left, not long after, to find refreshment and a bath. Gendry tidied away his tools, left the fire blazing, and walked outside. The town square was filled with many people he didn't recognise – do doubt Arya's men – and the Peach seemed noisier than ever, as he made his way to the back end of town. Pushing through a small gate in the wall, he made his way into the Godswood to revel in peace and quiet, to try to get a handle on his emotions and to thank the Old Gods – the only Gods who had ever listened.

* * *

**_A/N: So, there it was, that reunion you were all so eager for. I realise it was possibly a little anti-climatic, but I couldn't give up all the juicy stuff in one go now, could I :P_**

**_Next chapter is Arya, we get to see her take on their first meeting, and of course, their second meeting. And Arya's introduction to Lady Stoneheart. It might be a little longer for an update - I need to post a chapter on my other fic I'm working on. _**

**_Thanks again for reading :)_**

**_xBx_**


	8. Chapter 8: Arya

_**A/N: Wow, I really have been awol with this update, haven't I? I'm so sorry for making you wait guys! A combination of RL, writer's block and illness. But I'm back.**_

_**Thanks for all my reviews to last chapter - I'm sorry I never got around to replying to them all, but I did read them, thanks for all your input, I really appreciate it :)**_

_**Last chapter's song lyric was 'Gone for so long now, I gotta get back to her somehow' from **_**American Honey, _by _Lady Antebellum. _This chapter has a Linkin Park lyric hidden in there somewhere._**

**_Hope you like the chapter._**

**_xBx_**

* * *

**Chapter 8: Arya**

Arya left the warmth of the forge to follow Harwin across the square and into the manse that Lady Stoneheart had taken residence in. It had been a long couple of weeks since coming face to face with Harwin and his men: as soon as they crossed the Blackwater they were accosted by a large Lannister host, who looked to be marching east to reinforce the numbers at King's Landing. The battle was bloody, but Arya had wolves on her side and the Lannisters didn't stand a chance. Unfortunately the Lannisters had training on their side: while Arya's men were not bad with weapons, and had been steadily improving thanks to Aegon's soldiers training them every evening when they made camp, there was still much room for improvement, and as such Arya's force sustained a good number of losses.

After the battle, they had remained stationary for a couple of days for the worst of their injuries to heal, and Arya had sent a raven to Storms End alerting Aegon to her progress with the Brotherhood and the new movements of the Lannisters, as well as suggesting that the time was now right to send for the Dornish Armies and begin marching on King's Landing. From everything Harwin had told her, Arya was as sure of the Brotherhood as she was ever going to be.

Battered and bloody, she had arrived at Stony Sept in dire need of a hot bath to remove the layer of dirt and blood, as well as a dose of Milk of the Poppy to ease the pains in her ribs that had returned after the hard days ride, but Arya was made to wait for her relief. After seeing that her men were camped just outside the walls, she followed Harwin through the square towards Lady Stoneheart's quarters, intending to follow him all the way until they passed the forge. Harwin had said little of Gendry, only that he had spent the past few years at the Crossroads Inn, working the forge and looking after orphans who would then go on to travel with the Brotherhood when they came of an age. Arya had asked no questions; after all, Gendry had chosen the Brotherhood over her, why should she care what he was doing? Instead, she and Harwin discussed Lady Stoneheart: Harwin explained how Lord Beric had given his life to bring her back, he told Arya of her appearance and her inability to properly talk, and most importantly about her thirst for revenge and how it was dividing the Brotherhood.

Arya wasn't sure how she was feeling about seeing her Mother: there were certainly some emotions swirling around her, but after four years of suppressing every feeling, it was hard to let them back in now. She was certainly anxious: Arya was well aware she had not grown into the little lady her mother had hoped she would, and as such she was conscious of the possibility of being a disappointment – perhaps this was why she had made the rash decision to step into the forge; any excuse to delay.

"You go ahead," She had said to Harwin, "Alert Lady Stoneheart of my arrival. Find me when she is ready to receive me; I should see about getting my armour fixed." Harwin gave her a strange look, but nodded and continued on without her.

"Nymeria, stay." She told her direwolf at the door, as she entered the forge silently. Gendry didn't notice her immediately; he was too absorbed in his work. She watched him silently for a few moments, taking in his appearance: She had always been aware that Gendry was considered handsome – he had always been tall, strong, and well muscled, and every girl they came across would always bat their eyelashes and simper over him. But looking at him now, she realised how 'handsome' was somewhat of an understatement. From what she could see of his profile as he worked, taking in the way his muscles moved and twitched under the thin shirt that was currently sticking to his skin, Arya knew he was one of those rare exceptions whom could go into a whorehouse and take what he wanted for free. Arya had spent one of her assignments working in the Happy Port, where she was only a plain faced serving girl – she had to be trained in the arts of pleasure before she could be bought, and the girls in charge of training her had often spoke of the type of men they'd love to service for free. Arya had completed her assassination before she had been sold, and had disappeared with her maidenhood still in tact, but the things she had been told still stuck in her mind.

When Gendry had plunged the sword into the water and began slicing the air, Arya had pushed away the feelings stirring in the pit of her stomach, and spoken aloud, finally drawing attention to her presence. His reaction had been somewhat comical, and while the Arya she had once been with him would have laughed, the Arya she was now remained calm and still, betraying no hint of amusement. She hadn't known what to expect from their first meeting, a few awkward exchanges perhaps? But what she wasn't ready for, was him throwing his arms around her and pulling her into a tight embrace. She had tensed at first, as his arms put pressure on her injured ribs, but when she took a deep breath in an attempt to control the pain she inhaled his scent. As her senses were accosted with the smells of fire, steel and the woods, she instinctively wrapped her arms around his waist, allowing the comfort of his embrace.

From nowhere she was accosted by memories and emotions: she felt safe and protected, like she used to do when they were on the road together and only had each other. She thought of the last time she had been held by him: the day she had tried to stab the Hound after his fight with Lord Beric, Gendry had grabbed her tight and held her as she struggled, stopping her from doing something stupid.

When Gendry let her go, she quickly got a handle on these emotions, quelling them back down to nothingness, her face the calm mask belonging to No One. When he had asked her where she had been, she had given her automatic response: _Who are you? No One. Where have you been? Nowhere._

She was confused about the direction their conversation had taken: it was never her intention to argue, and she had kept her voice level and her emotions in check, but Gendry had seemed to fire up rather quick. When Arya had told him that she knew the reason he had joined the Brotherhood, he seemed genuinely surprised at her assumption, and even upset, which confused Arya even more as she could think of no other reason why he would join. It was then that Harwin had reappeared; calling her back to the reason she had come here.

There was no other distraction she could justifiably find; she couldn't put this meeting off any longer, and Arya was sure the tension she was feeling would be showing slightly through her posture. She left the forge, shivering slightly as she walked back out into the cold. Harwin was still bundled up in his furs, but Arya had removed hers at the camp: the furs were heavy, and the weight was putting extra strain on her already aching body. Nymeria padded after her silently, as Harwin led her into the Manse and along to the room where Lady Stoneheart waited. At the door, Arya's mind snapped out from the thoughts of her initial meeting with Gendry, and back into the present.

Harwin opened the door, "Catelyn." He said quietly, "Your daughter." Arya stepped through the doorway, nodded to Harwin to let him know she would be fine, and commanded Nymeria to wait outside, before looking at the figure standing at the fireplace. She was wearing a cloak, with the hood pulled up hiding her hair and pulled far forward so that when she turned, Arya still couldn't see her face.

Despite being unable to see the emotions playing on Lady Stoneheart's face, Arya was able to read her posture well enough to see the tension that had sprung at Harwin's announcement turn to shock before melting into relief.

"Arya." Lady Stoneheart rasped.

"Hello Mother." Arya said simply, and Lady Stoneheart's head twitched to the side, no doubt confused at the strange accent. "You can remove your hood, I've already seen your face." Arya told her mother.

Lady Stoneheart removed her hood with hesitation, confusion clearly etched on her face at Arya's words. "How?" She asked.

Arya smiled, "Nymeria was the one to pull you from the river," she explained, taking in her mother's appearance, not balking at the bloated skin, or the pink gouges down her cheeks and the slice across her neck. "I was in her mind at the time, so I saw what the Frey's did to you."

Lady Stoneheart gave her daughter a sad smile and moved towards her with arms outstretched. She stopped a breath away from Arya, suddenly unsure about her movements, clearly wondering if her little girl could stomach the touch of her.

Arya smiled again, and closed the distance between the two, encircling her arms around Lady Stoneheart and holding her tight. "I missed you." Arya whispered, not realising until that moment, just how true that statement was.

She didn't smell like Arya remembered: she smelt like damp and decay. Which, when Arya thought of it, wasn't so surprising considering she had spent days in a river after her death. But regardless of her appearance and her smell, Arya did not shy away – she had seen many worse things in the House of Black and White.

Lady Stoneheart pulled back, and placed cold hands on either side of Arya's face. Arya watched her mother's face closely, and could see that if Lady Stoneheart were capable of producing tears they would have been falling thick and fast.

"Beautiful." Lady Stoneheart rasped, but it came out so unclear that Arya had to lip-read to fully understand.

Arya gave a small smile, but otherwise her face showed no emotion at the words: Despite the fact she was moved by her mother's praise, four years of teaching was so completely ingrained in her that Arya sometimes struggled to even _feel_ emotions nowadays, let alone _show_ them. This was not lost on Lady Stoneheart, who frowned as she delicately ran her thumbs under Arya's eyes.

"Why?" Lady Stoneheart asked, only managing to sound out one word at a time. This time it was Arya's turn to frown, not fully understanding the question, nor what Lady Stoneheart was so confused about.

"Why what?" Arya asked slowly, trying to understand without words.

Lady Stoneheart swallowed, and the gash along her neck contorted grotesquely. With careful deliberation, she gently ran her thumbs over Arya's eyelids, causing them to flutter shut for a moment. When Arya opened her eyes again, she saw Lady Stoneheart form the words, "cold," and "dead," and Arya understood: She was asking why Arya's eyes were so lifeless; why they were now ice instead of fire.

Arya wasn't sure how to respond, where to start, and as she was thinking of her response she couldn't help but realise the irony of her Mother's question: out of the two of them, it was Lady Stoneheart who was dead and cold – Warm blood still ran through Arya's veins, and she had never lost her life. Before she could stop it, a laugh escaped her, and she brought a hand to her mouth to stop the outburst.

Lady Stoneheart looked even more confused at Arya's sudden burst of mirth, which only made Arya laugh more.

"I'm sorry," Arya said, shaking her head, "But out of the two of us, I believe you are more 'cold' and 'dead' than I am." She pointed out.

Lady Stoneheart gave her a look that Arya knew well from her childhood: the look that told Arya she was walking on very thin ice, and the next words out of her mouth had better be a satisfactory explanation of her behaviour otherwise something was going to be taken from her. In that moment, Arya was an eight-year-old girl, back in Winterfell, in trouble over skipping out of her lessons. The thought sobered her instantly: the memory that came back to her was clearer than any she had had of home since leaving King's Landing all those years ago.

Something must have shown on her face, however slight, for it made Lady Stoneheart's features soften, "Where?" She asked then, and Arya knew she was asking where she had been all this time.

Arya swallowed, and then forced her smile back on her face, "We have lots to talk about." She said, finally pulling away and moving to take a seat. "I assume Gendry will have told you how I escaped King's Landing, and how we ended up with the Brotherhood in a roundabout way?" Lady Stoneheart took a seat facing her daughter and nodded, so Arya continued.

"You will have heard that the Hound took me. He intended to bring me to you and Robb. We came so close, only a wall separated us." Arya saw the wariness, and - was it fear? – Flicker in Lady Stoneheart's eyes, and she knew the unasked question.

"Yes," Arya nodded, "I was there the night of the Red Wedding," she confirmed, "The Hound dragged me away. From there we wound our way to Saltpans – the Hound died along the way, Harwin told me they came across his body. At the Saltpans I bought passage on a ship and sailed across the Narrow Sea." Arya paused, and chewed her lip – the old habit coming back to her so easy. Should she tell her Mother? If anyone would understand the things she had done it would be here, wouldn't it? Perhaps the mother she used to be would not have understood, but Lady Stoneheart understood revenge and death better than anyone.

"I went to Braavos, and I spent four years there. Learning." Arya said carefully, "Learning to be No One." Lady Stoneheart surveyed Arya carefully, and Arya lost the nerve to continue: Lady Stoneheart didn't need to know everything she was taught, not now at least.

Arya let a smile play on her lips, "You would have been proud of me, Mother. I listened well to my teachers, and learned a lot." She said, trying to lighten the mood, "I was a far better student for them, than I ever was for Septa Mordane."

Mother and daughter looked at each other carefully for a few minutes, coming to a silent understanding that while one wanted to question, the other was not willing to answer, and the pair came to a mutual agreement that this conversation was not to be had in this moment.

"Harwin filled me in a little on your vengeance seeking. Every Frey you come across, you hang." Arya stated, after a moment, and Lady Stoneheart merely nodded.

"I understand your need for vengeance, Mother." She said, "I want the same thing. But this is much bigger than the Freys."

Lady Stoneheart looked at Arya intently, as if willing her to understand her thoughts without having to speak. Arya looked at her mother just as intently, reading her body language and piecing together her thoughts by looking into her eyes.

"I can't begin to imagine what went on behind the doors at the Twins – but I saw enough on the outside. The Freys butchered Robb, and killed you. I understand how much you need to seek vengeance – but Robb was not your only child." Arya reminded Lady Stoneheart carefully, measuring every word and not showing any emotion.

"The Lannisters have played an equal part in tearing down our family: they started this when they took father's head. The Greyjoys have destroyed the North, burnt Winterfell, and murdered Bran and Rickon. The Boltons have stolen the ruins of Winterfell, claiming them in my name. I've come back because I want to go home. By all means, take down as many Freys as you can in the process, but from now on, reclaiming the North is priority." Arya stated, authority creeping into her voice.

"You are my mother, and I am asking you now to back me as you once backed Robb. I am the last Stark; Robb's rightful heir, and intend to finish the battles he started. But I will need men. I already have Harwin's backing, and he is confident in many of the Brotherhood following his lead. I know you have others out looking for me – a party lead by Thoros, and another led by Ned Dayne. Harwin sent a rider to follow after Ned and tell them to return. And no doubt Thoros will already be on his way here, having glimpsed something in his fires. When everyone is assembled I would like to meet with leaders." Arya paused here, waiting for Lady Stoneheart's acquiescence to her proposition.

Lady Stoneheart nodded, while surveying Arya with a strange look hinting at bittersweet remembrances. But Arya ignored it and continued.

"You do not have to follow me, if you do not wish – you can remain in the Riverlands. And I will not force men to follow me, but if they chose to swear their swords to me, I ask that you let them follow me freely."

Arya surveyed the room they were sitting in: it was large, with a good-sized table sitting in the centre around which at least twenty men could be seated. "Would you object to me using this room? When the rest of the men return, I should like to meet in here."

Lady Stoneheart nodded, and then smiled sadly, mouthing the words: "so like your father."

Arya smiled at the words, half of which came out in a rasp, the others not at all. "Thank you." She said, ignoring the unbidden memories tugging at the corners of her mind.

Arya stood before an awkward silence could ensue, "Forgive me, Mother," she announced, "It has been a long ride, I need food and rest. I will talk with you on the Morrow."

Arya left the room and was greeted by Nymeria, waiting patiently to follow wherever her master would lead. Arya made her way back out to where her men were camped, in search of Maester Mathos. She found him just outside her tent, awaiting her patiently and tending to a fire burning at the mouth.

"How was Lady Stoneheart?" He asked.

"Exactly as I was expecting." Arya told him truthfully, before quickly surveying the camp, as Nymeria bounded off to hunt with her pack. "It's quiet."

"Many of the men have made their way in to the Peach, I believe." Mathos explained, following her into her tent, "How are your ribs?"

"They ache." Arya said.

"They haven't been re-strapped for a couple of days, perhaps I should redo them?" Maester Mathos suggested, but Arya shook her head.

"Not yet. I haven't bathed in weeks; I'm covered in blood and dirt. Just some Milk of the Poppy for now, and then I will go in search of hot water."

"Lommy is seeing to it as we speak – I sent him for a tub a half hour ago." Mathos declared as he rummaged through his vials, "A couple of men who have returned to camp say they saw him near the Peach."

Arya chuckled, "I won't hold my breath for that bath then. At least not for another hour or so."

Mathos smiled, and handed her a goblet of ale in which he had mixed some Milk of the Poppy, "The men also said there was a Godswood at the rear of the town – perhaps you can pass the time in there, if you do not wish to sit around." He suggested, knowing Arya well enough by now to know she was a restless spirit.

Arya frowned, "There's a Godswood? This far south?"

"Apparently so." Mathos confirmed, "Though I would wager it is what the Southerners call a Godswood."

"What does that mean? A Godswood is a Godswood." Arya said.

"In the North, a Godswood is full of ancient wierwoods, with a heart tree at its centre. In the south a Godswood is a patch of forest with a wierwood planted randomly in the midst." Mathos declared, causing Arya to chuckle once again.

"Perhaps I will go see this Godswood." Arya said after a moment of thought, thinking it would be nice to stand in front of a wierwood once again. "I shall return in an hour or so."

Arya made her way back through the camp and back into the town, greeting people here and there as they greeted her – she was amused at the many forms of courtesies she was shown: some called her 'milady', one or two 'princess'. One young boy even knelt in the snow and called her 'your grace," much to her amusement – though she didn't let it show.

She found her way out to the Godswood, and just as Mathos had predicted, it was nothing but a clearing in the forest, at the centre of which was a single wierwood. What surprised her was that there was already someone kneeling at it.

Arya stood quietly for a moment: despite the thick snow on the ground, Arya had been silent in her approach thanks to years of training, and as such her arrival had gone unnoticed. The person knelt at the tree suddenly lifted their head to gaze up into the branches of the wierwood, and Arya recognised the shock of untidy black hair.

"I never knew you prayed to the Old Gods." Arya commented, successfully startling Gendry to his feet.

"I didn't use to, milady." Gendry admitted, "but I do now."

Arya ignored the 'milady', "Why did you change?" She asked moving forward to stand in front of the wierwood.

"The other Gods never answered my prayers." Gendry said truthfully.

"But the Old Gods did?"

"Yes. It took them four months to listen, but they answered in the end." He told her.

Arya looked up a Gendry, "What did you pray for?"

Gendry was quiet for a moment, "Your return," he finally said, quietly. Arya looked at him thoughtfully, and then to the wierwood before gazing up to the sky. The stars were out, but the night was moonless.

"The first time you prayed to the Old Gods," she started slowly, "When was that?"

"It was a night like this – the stars were out, but there was no moon." Gendry told her with a frown, somewhat confused as to why it mattered. "the moon has turned four times since then. Why?"

Arya thought back over her journey: this would be her third black moon since setting foot in Westeros, the one before that she was on board _Summer's Snow_. Therefore the one before – the night on which Gendry first spoke to the Old Gods – would have been when she was still in Braavos.

"I remember that night." She told him, remembering her wolf dream from that time, "It was the first clear night in weeks; the snow had finally stopped. The Gods didn't take four months to listen, they heard you're first prayer and they answered. The following day was the day two men of the Night's Watch stumbled across me, one of whom recognised me. And then, in less than twelve hours I was sailing for Westeros."

Gendry was looking at Arya with a pained expression – the one he usually wore when he was thinking hard.

"If you were across the Narrow Sea, how do you know what that night was like in the Riverlands?" He asked.

Arya instinctively chewed her lip – should she tell him the truth? There was once a time she had trusted him with her identity, but that was before he had turned his back on her in favour of the Brotherhood.

Gendry gave a breath of laughter, and looked down at his feet, "You once trusted me with your biggest secret, but you can't tell me this?" he asked, echoing her thoughts.

"How did you know?" He repeated.

Arya decided to give some portion of the truth, "The same way I know that you were with Harwin, Thoros and Lord Beric when they came upon my Mother's body."

Whatever answer Gendry was expecting it wasn't that, and shock was clearly displayed on his face as he asked: "Which is what, exactly?"

Arya smiled, "A story for another time." Before Gendry could argue she asked her own question, which had been unanswered in the forge and had played on the back of her mind ever since. "You never answered my question before; about your intentions, your reasons for joining the brotherhood. What were they?"

Gendry looked confused for a moment, as if trying to find the right words to explain, "I didn't join to leave you, like you thought." He said slowly, "I joined so I wouldn't have to leave you."

Arya looked at him for a moment, and suddenly her old temper broke through the ice that had built up, "Do you know how stupid that sounds?" she asked. "I was a hostage; the brotherhood were going to ransom me – by joining them you became one of my captors."

Gendry laughed, but only for a second, and Arya froze over once again, "I know now it was stupid. But at the time, it seemed like the best thing to do."

"At the time you could have come with me to Riverrun: My brother was a King, you would have had his thanks for helping to bring his sister safely to him. He would have given you a forge, and boys to work for you."

"Yes," Gendry said, "and you would have been up in the castle, and I would not have seen you again."

Arya frowned, "That's not true. You were my friend, they wouldn't have stopped me seeing you."

"Maybe not at first," Gendry conceded, "but eventually they would. I was just a bastard blacksmith and you were a princess. Eventually they would have stopped you from seeing me, dressed you in fine linen and married you off to some Lord."

"They wouldn't." Arya countered, "I wouldn't do it. But that still doesn't explain why you chose the Brotherhood."

"By joining the Brotherhood, I became a Knight." Gendry explained, "That opportunity doesn't come along for a common bastard like me – I was ridiculously lucky to even become an armourer's apprentice. To be made a Knight was amazing for me. A bastard smith is no fit company for a Princess to keep, but even a princess has Knights to guard her night and day." Gendry said, looking down at his feet, "By joining the Brotherhood, I could stand in front of your family with a title, and ask for a place in your personal guard. Though at the time, you could probably have defended yourself better than I could, but it would still allow me to see you every day."

Arya didn't know what to say; she drank in every word and knew he was telling the absolute truth.

"I tried so hard and got so far, but in the end it doesn't even matter," Gendry continued, "you were taken, and my title seems a bit pointless now." He was silent for a moment then, and Arya could feel him looking at her intently.

"I never betrayed your secret, you know," he said suddenly, and Arya frowned, "To this day I have never told a single soul that you are Arya of House Stark. Even when we went after you and the Hound - it's always been Harwin that's told your name, on the rare occasion we gave it. Even with Lady Stoneheart, I never said anything about you until Harwin told her I had been with you since King's Landing."

Arya looked back at Gendry just as intently as he looked at her, trying to find a lie but there was none to be found, and Arya realised that if she were going to trust anyone, Gendry would be the safest bet. But right now was not the moment.

"Thank you," she said quietly, "And thank you for praying for me."

They were silent a moment longer, until Gendry finally took his leave, leaving Arya to stand at the weirwood and pray to her Old Gods in peace.

* * *

_**A/N: So not a lot really happened in this one I know, it's more of a filler. But progress will start happening in the next one.**_

_**Thanks for waiting patiently, and I'll hopefully update quicker this time around.**_

_**xBx**_


	9. Chapter 9: Arya

_**A/N: Thank you for all my reviews! you guys are great, and I'm sorry for keeping you waiting once again for an update - but it's finally here, and we're back with Arya again.**_

_**Congrats to**_******Jus a Reviewer, Lilyann-Ag, and Druska41,**_**for finding the Linkin Park lyrics in the last chapter - they were 'I've tried so hard and got so far, but in the end it doesn't even matter' from In The End.**_

_**This chapter has a Taylor Swift lyric in there (told you I had a rather varied music taste lol)**_

* * *

**Chapter 9: Arya**

The following day, Arya was granted her request of a meeting with the leaders who had naturally emerged among the Brotherhood. The room in which, the night before, she had reconnected with her mother was now full with faces she recognised and more that she didn't.

Around the table sat those who seemed to be higher ranked than others - including Lady Stoneheart, Harwin, Gendry, and Lem. Thoros had yet to return, and so had Ned Dayne. As well as the Brotherhood, there were also a couple of Aegon's men present, as well as Arya's personal council, and her squire.

Despite knowing that those gathered had all been involved in finding her, Arya was nervous about asking them to take her banners and fight in her name.

Looking around the table, littered with maps of Westeros, the Riverlands and the North, Arya could see a mixture of interest, loyalty, and mistrust among the men of the Brotherhood: some men's swords she was already sure of, others were obviously curious, and the rest would take some persuading.

"You all know why I am here; why I have returned," Arya started with confidence. "I want to take back the North, and to do that I need men-"

"We're sworn to protect the Riverlands from the Lions." One of the more mistrusting men interrupted.

"I know-" Arya agreed, "-but soon, the Riverlands won't need protecting: Aegon Targaryen has declared himself the rightful King and He intends to march on King's Landing-"

"And he's been intending it for some time," another interrupted.

"-when he marches, and takes the city," Arya continued, as if there was no interruption, "the Lannisters and their men will either have to bend the knee, or face Aegon's armies. Aegon's forces will bring them to heal; there will be little for the Brotherhood to do. And that is when I intend to march on the North, preferably with the Brotherhood behind me."

There was a moment of silence, but Lem finally broke it: "The Brotherhood haven't taken banners since we first came together. What makes you think we'll suddenly take up yours?"

Arya smiled, it sounded like Lem hadn't quite forgiven her for breaking his nose all those years ago. "Peace is coming: soon the Riverlands will have little need of your protection and you will have to take banners eventually or face the new King's justice. So why not take mine? The Brotherhood started by continuing the work my father – Lord Eddard Stark – had sent you out to do. Your current enemies are mine also: you fight against Lannisters, and you hang every Frey you come across. You fight for Lady Stoneheart, whose sole objective is revenge for the Red Wedding – I want revenge too. But I also want Winterfell and the North."

"There's already one girl claiming to be Arya Stark," one pessimist said. "How do we know she's not the real one and that you're not an impostor?" He asked, but Arya knew this wasn't his primary concern.

Arya smiled, but it was Lady Stoneheart who answered with a vehement rasp, that clearly displayed displeasure though only a handful understood her.

Harwin dutifully translated for the rest of them, "A mother knows her daughter."

"And what pretender would have control of a direwolf?" Arya pointed out, "You also have the word of your fellow brothers – those who knew me the first time I was with you. But my identity is not your concern, is it? I have many talents – I've learnt a lot of tricks – and knowing a lie when I hear it, is one of them. So why don't you tell me your real concern?"

"All right," he conceded after a moment, ignoring the smirks from some of his comrades, and sitting tall. "You're a girl – barely even a woman. And yet you are asking us to follow you as you start another war; to follow you into battles. What could you possibly know about what you are asking us to face?"

"I know more than you think," Arya told him sincerely, before addressing them all.

"My brother, Robb, commanded the Northern army when he was my age, and he was crowned as King not long after." She reminded them all, "He was given his first steel blade at fifteen – when our Lord Father went south, to King's Landing – and made his first kill about the same age. He fought his first battle as a green boy, and yet men still followed him – some of you in this very room followed him."

Arya paused for a moment, risking a quick glance at Lady Stoneheart – no mother should have to hear, from her daughter, what Arya was about to speak next:

"I was given my first blade, this one right here-" she fingered needle at her side, "-at the age of eight, and I was taught how to use it in King's Landing. I made _my_ first kill the day my father was arrested. Not long after that, I fled King's Landing with some Night's Watch recruits, men who I fought alongside in my first battle against the Gold Cloaks, after a few months on the road. I killed a few men that night, and I have killed many and more since." Arya declared to a now silent room.

Standing tall, she spoke to the men with the authority she had spoken to Lady Stoneheart the previous day, "I intend to continue the war my brother started, and I intend to win it. It is not going to be easy, and it is not going to be quick. And I certainly will not guarantee we will all survive it. But I can guarantee that I will take back Winterfell – I will rule it in my own right, and I will bring the North back under Stark rule," Arya declared.

"But before that can be accomplished, we need to ensure that Aegon can take King's Landing, without Lannister reinforcements getting in the way. Which means I need men watching the Gold Road and the Blackwater Rush-"

"The Blackwater is frozen, milady," Anguy pointed out. "No one's going to be sailing any time soon."

"No," Arya agreed. "But provisions are easier and quicker to move over ice than through snow. And right now, time is of the essence."

"And what will the rest of us be doing?" Lem asked.

"Stopping Freys from descending down the King's Road; protecting the peace of the Riverlands. And preparing to go north." Arya said with conviction.

"And if we get captured, who do we tell them we're taking orders from?" one of the interested-pessimists asked, and Arya allowed herself a small smile.

"Tell them you are fighting for Arya Stark, the Lady of Winterfell and Princess in the North." She declared, finally deciding with conviction what her title should be. "Does this mean I have your swords?"

The men about the room looked at one another, each waiting for the other to move first: if they declared for themselves for Arya, they would be turning from Lady Stoneheart in her very presence, and this scared some of the men – Lady Stoneheart was infamous for her treatment of betrayers.

Arya noticed Gendry and Harwin exchange a loaded look across the room, before Harwin drew his sword and laid it on the ground.

"My men and I swore you our swords at the Blackwater, but I'll do it again," he announced, going to one knee before her. "It was an honour to serve Lord Eddard Stark, and it would be an honour to serve his daughter. I am yours, my princess. I will shield you back and keep your council and give my life for yours, if need be. I swear it by the old gods and the new. My sword is yours."

"And mine." Gendry spoke, echoing Harwin's movements, "If it wasn't for you, I would probably be rotting in Harrenhall. I am yours, my princess, and I will give my life for yours if I have to. I swear it by the old gods - the only gods who listen. My sword is yours – it always has been, and always will be."

After that, the rest of the men followed suit easy enough, each declaring themselves, their men and their swords to Arya.

"I vow to you," Arya declared, once the men had ceased to swear by the old gods and the new, "that you shall always have a place by my hearth, and meat and mead at my table. I pledge to ask no service of you that might bring you into dishonour, nor will ask anything of you that I would not do myself. I swear it by the old gods and the new. Arise."

Arya looked about the men – _her_men – and smiled a small smile. The brotherhood was hers.

"Best we start making some banners, boys." Lem declared_._

###

The following day, Arya sent Lem out with a healthy entourage, to make towards the Blackwater. Another man – Luthor Brent – would continue on, with a good number of men, past the Blackwater to cover the Gold Road. The remaining members of the Brotherhood, along with the men whom had followed Arya from the south, would take their turns patrolling the surrounding area – leaving for a few days and returning with whatever provisions they could get a hold of. Those who remained at Stony Sept, were occupied in preparing for the impending war: every time Arya passed by the forge, she would see Gendry hard at work with his apprentice boy toiling just as hard. The town square had become a training yard: green boys and seasoned men trained side-by-side in sword fight and archery, and their practice continued back at the camps set up outside the walls. The women of the town had incorporated the sewing of banners into their daily routine, and soon enough the Direwolf sigil of House Stark was beginning to fly above more and more tents, and above the gates of the town.

Arya couldn't help but feel heartened by the sight, but at the same time she was aware of a sense of apprehension lurking deep: she was very much standing on the edge of something, and anytime now she would be taking that leap, and thousands of men would be following her. Arya could not help but wonder how many men would desert her after their first battle.

"The seasoned men have seen their fair share of battles, they will know better than anyone what to expect," Arya said to Maester Mathos, as they sat in her tent the night after the Brotherhood had sworn their oaths. "And even some of the lads, they've grown up in a war-torn land. But I still can't help but think that perhaps when they strike North, their hearts will change. It is not only the Iron Men they have to fear when we cross the Neck."

Mathos nodded wisely, "It is true that perhaps, if we come across the Others and the Wights, a few might balk and run. But if you tell them of what they are to face, tell them how to fight them, they will have no reason to run - the unknown precipitates fear. As long as your men know of the dangers they are to face – all the dangers – there is little cause for them to flee. All we are is skin and bone, trained to get along, forever going with the flow. You're men will stay true, of that I am certain."

Thoros returned a couple of days after Lem departed. Upon his return, he immediately sought out Arya who was practicing her archery skills in competition with Anguy.

"You missed his heart," Anguy grinned, as Arya's arrow lodged into the sack-man's neck.

"So did you." Aray smirked, as Aunguy's arrow hit its mark.

"What are you talking about?" Anguy argued with a frown, "The arrow went right through his chest."

"The men we will be fighting will be wearing plate and mail; you've just wasted an arrow. _My_ arrow has slipped above the gorget and into the jugular. He will have bled out by the time I get to him, allowing me to take back my arrow with no fuss, and use it again on the next man." Arya explained calmly.

A laugh from behind drew their attention from the targets, "She has you there, old friend."

A thinning man with grey hair and ragged red robes, that were so faded they looked pink, was smiling at them.

"Thoros," Arya smiled back at him, "You have found your way back."

"As have you, my lady." Thoros returned with a bow, "Though granted it took me a lot less time than you did. You have learnt many things since you left us the last time." He stated meaningfully, and Arya was almost certain he knew something of her time in Braavos – no doubt his fires had shown him something.

"Everything and nothing." Arya replied. "You saw my return in your fires?"

"Just so," Thoros nodded, "Though now that we are in the grip of winter, I am seeing less and less."

"As winter strengthens its hold, the old gods have more power, other gods have less." Arya said.

"That may be, but I still see some things," Thoros countered. "For example, a saw a girl with no face and a wolf standing in front of a cloaked woman carrying a noose – I knew the cloaked woman to be Lady Stoneheart. The girl with a wolf could only be you. But why she was faceless – well, that is the question, isn't it?"

Anguy was looking between Thoros and Arya with wrapt and wary attention; Arya maintained her blank expression of steely calm, "Ponder it well, Thoros, and perhaps your fires will eventually give you the answer."

"Perhaps they already have." Thoros suggested, but instead of pressing the matter he immediately changed the subject, "Where is Lady Stoneheart and Harwin? We have a visitor on their way, and they need to be prepared."

"Who is this visitor?" Arya asked, her attention caught and defences up, "Friend or foe?"

"I do not believe her to be a foe, my lady. But regardless, I should alert Lady Stoneheart." Thoros pressed.

"Princess Arya holds command now, Thoros," Anguy smirked, "I would have thought your fires might have warned you about that."

"You work quickly," Thoros commended with a smile, "Forgive me, I did not know. This lady we should look for, is coming from the North – in the fires I see a bear searching for a wolf. And then I see a woman wandering through the forests of the Riverlands."

"How far away do you believe her to be?" Arya asked.

"I do not know, Princess," Thoros admitted. "Perhaps another look into the fires will give me more knowledge."

Arya nodded, "Very well. But you are right, Thoros – Lady Stoneheart should be kept informed. Harwin and Gendry too."

Arya caught the look that passed between the two men: she saw Thoros give a questioning look to Anguy, and just as plainly saw Anguy shrug back, but she ignored it all. Arya went to retrieve her arrow from the sack, on top of which her raven was now perched, and returned it to her quiver.

"If anyone has need of me, I will be at the wierwood." Arya announced, before turning and making her way to the back of the square. Her raven dutifully followed – as was its custom – soaring around her once, before settling on her shoulder.

Out in the woods, Arya sat in front of the wierwood and spoke her usual prayer that had become an automatic reaction. "Ser Gregor," she whispered. "Dunsen, Raff the Sweetling. Ser Illyn, Ser Meryn, Queen Cersei. Lord Walder and Theon Greyjoy. Valar Morghulis."

After her little ritual, the raven flew from her shoulder with a loud squawk and landed in the branches of the wierwood. Arya took this time of rare peace and quiet to practice slipping into the bird. Closing her eyes, she left her body and found herself looking down at herself from the bone-white branches on the tree. With another squawk, she took flight, circled the clearing and took off North flying fast over the trees. After several minutes, movement down amongst the trees caught her eye, and after a moments struggle, Arya bent the raven's will to her own, and dived down among the trees.

Once among the branches she saw that the movements belonged to wolves – only a dozen of them – that were running, sniffing, looking for food. At the head was a female three times the size of the rest.

_Fly back to me_. Arya commanded the raven, before leaving the bird and effortlessly slipping into Nymeria's skin.

Arya had now become used to wearing the raven's skin, but it still didn't feel as right as Nymeria's – with Nymeria, Arya felt she was simply another version of herself.

She padded through the snow, taking in the scents of the forest: the biting cold of the snow, the wooded smell of the trees, and the slight lingering aroma of the fallen foliage rotting around their bases. A cold wind blew from the north, and her nose whipped up, sniffing the air: another scent was now mingled with the others, the smell of prey.

She tipped her head back and howled before taking off toward the source of the smells, the others following behind her. Within moments they were on top of the prey – a lone human. Nymeria didn't pay attention to the human's pelts, but Arya did – when she tore at the cloak, Arya noticed the sigil sewn onto the man's doublet: twin towers.

Just as Nymeria sunk her teeth into her prey, and warm blood flooded her mouth, Arya was brought back to her own skin by the sudden grasping of her shoulder.

"Arya?"

In an instant, Arya knocked the hand away at the same time as loosing a dagger from her belt. As swift as a dear, she knocked the offender from their feet and sat herself on top of their stomach, pinning them to the ground as she held the blade at their throat.

"I'm sorry!" Gendry sputtered, his eyes wide with shock, and his hands up by his head with the palms wide open in a gesture of surrender. "I was talking to you for a while, but you had your eyes closed. And then you started growling…" he trailed off.

Arya's breathing was heightened; being brought back to her own skin so abruptly, she had not calmed her emotions – she could still taste the blood in her mouth from Nymeria's kill. And she was now painfully aware of the compromising position she had now found herself in.

Quick as a flash, she withdrew her blade from Gendry's neck and returned it to he belt as she sat herself up.

"I'm sorry. You startled me." Arya said.

"So I see," Gendry said with a grin, propping himself up on his elbows. "Where did you learn to move so fast?"

Arya smirked at him, "Nowhere."

Gendry rolled his eyes, "Are you ever going to answer my questions truthfully?"

Arya thought, her emotions calming, and her mask coming back into place. "Perhaps," she said truthfully. "But sometimes the less you know the better."

Gendry had no response to that, so instead he looked at her pointedly, his eyes flicking down to her waist and back up to her eyes, "Can you at least let me up?"

Arya smiled that cold, blank, smile of hers. "Right, sorry," She apologised, moving off Gendry with a graceful alacrity, and returning to her previous position.

"What were you doing?" Gendry asked, after a moment.

Arya took a deep breath, weighing her choice of truth over deceit: On the one hand, it wasn't something people would readily accept – it could cause mistrust, even fear. On the other hand, Arya was vulnerable when she slipped her skin – Gendry had just proven it. Hadn't he been talking to her for a while, and Arya had been none the wiser? It would be useful to have someone who knew her secret, someone who could watch over her body whenever she slipped from it.

Gendry gave a small laugh beside her, and shook his head. "Let me guess? Nothing."

Her decision was made: "The other day, you asked how it was I knew what the night was like the first time you prayed to the old gods, while I was supposed to be across the Narrow Sea. And I told you, it was the same way I knew you were one of those who found my mother."

"I remember." Gendry frowned, "you're changing the subject." He accused.

"No I'm not," Arya assured him, "What do you remember about that day?"

"When we found Lady Stoneheart?" Gendry clarified. "I know we got there just in time, before the wolves got into her."

Arya smiled, "Think carefully – really think – the wolf that was by her side, what was it like?"

"Huge, three times bigger than any other I've seen. Well, except Nymeria." Gendry looked sharply at Arya, with his signature pained expression, "The wolf that I saw then, it was Nymeria?"

Arya nodded, and Gendry tried to make sense of what this information really meant, "But how does that relate to how you know?"

Arya thought for a moment, of how best to explain. "You grew up in King's Landing, you would have never heard the stories of the North. About the things that dwell beyond the wall?"

"I've heard a few," Gendry countered.

"Well, the things that are supposed to dwell beyond the wall, have been coming further south for years: Direwolves had never been seen south of the wall for a thousand years, until my father came back one day with six pups in tow. And then there are the Others and the White Walkers."

"I've heard the stories from Harwin, and the accounts from a man from the Night's Watch I came across a few years back. So you're telling me that everything we've heard stories about, the myths that dwell beyond the wall, are all real – snarks grumpkins and wargs, are all real?" Gendry asked, sounding slightly sceptical.

"I don't know about snarks and grumpkins-" Arya smirked "-but wargs are real enough."

"You mean to tell me there are men beyond the wall who can turn into an animal at will?" Gendry said, truly sceptical this time.

Arya smiled patiently and shook her head, "No. That is not a warg. A warg does not physically change their shape; rather they slip their skin. They can leave their own bodies behind, and their consciousness slips into that of something else. Like a wolf, for example," Arya said significantly, just as her raven flew through the branches and landed on her shoulder. "Or a raven," Arya added quietly.

Arya watched as Gendry digested this piece of information, _Gods, don't let him fear me_, she prayed, hoping this hadn't been a terrible mistake.

"The stories I was told of wargs – they all said wargs were evil beings, inhuman-"

"Stories told in the south, but the South forgets. The North remembers, and wargs are just human – normal people with a gift from the gods." Arya interrupted him.

"So, you knew those things, because Nymeria saw them?" Gendry asked slowly, "You were in her skin at the time?"

Arya nodded, "Am I going to regret trusting you with this?"

Gendry looked up, shocked for a moment, before his face became determined. "No," he declared honestly. "It's just, not something to understand easily. What made you tell me?" He asked warily.

"You asked what I was doing. And you've just proven I'm vulnerable when I slip my skin. When you arrived I was Nymeria, hunting – if it were an enemy they could have slit my throat before I was even aware of their presence," Arya explained, suppressing a shudder at the danger she had let herself get into without knowing.

"What I can do is useful – I have a high level of control over Nymeria when I am in her. There is a connection to her that is beyond explanation – I can feel her now, I can even taste the meat she is currently eating. I can bend her to my will, I can use her eyes and ears and nose as a better look-out than mine own. The same with the raven – I can soar above the trees and see for miles, though with the raven it's not quite the same. But it takes practice, which is what I come here to do."

Gendry nodded, and Arya could see he was still trying to digest the information she had unloaded. Arya sat quietly and eventually Gendry broke his silence.

"I told you, you could trust me, and you can." He said, "I won't tell anyone what you have just said."

"Thank you. What brings you out here now? When I passed the forge earlier you looked deep in work – it didn't look like you would be stopping any time before dark?"

Gendry smiled, "Right, I almost forgot. Your armour – I didn't mend that cheap steel you came with. I've re-worked some better stuff into a similar size. It wont be perfect yet, but if you stop by the forge, I can adjust it to a better fit."

Arya got her feet, and Gendry followed suit. "Thank you-" Arya said, "-I will stop by this evening. But first, I need to speak to some men."

Gendry frowned, "What's wrong?"

Arya hesitated only a moment, wondering if this would be too much information in one go. She decided it wouldn't be, "Nymeria's prey was a man wearing the Frey's sigil. It was only one man, and I couldn't smell anyone else near, but I don't want to take any chances. I want to send a dozen men north, towards Pinkmaiden and Acorn Hall, just to be sure there aren't others."

Arya was true to her word, and after a brief discussion with Lady Stoneheart and a number of others, Thoros was sent out once more, with five men of his choosing, to look for any more stray Freys, and to gather word on the movements of the Iron born.

Since leaving Storm's End, Arya had a thousand questions running through her mind – despite seeing the letter that the Crow's Eye had sent to Aegon, she had been given little information about their movements, though she knew Aegon had more knowledge than he was sharing. However, Harwin had seemed unable to tell her anything more when she had come upon him, and now her last hope for information rest upon Edric Dayne's return – _which should be any day now_.

A few days after Thoros's departure, one of his men returned in the company of four others – a woman and three men, presumably her guard. Arya was teaching the basics of the Braavosi Water Dance to some of the smaller, younger men – barely past boyhood – who found it easier to wield a smaller blade.

"Princess Arya!" Lommy, her squire called out.

Arya put up her sword, and she and her partner turned at the arrival. "Has Ned returned?" She called out to her squire – she had placed Lommy on watch, to tell her of his arrival immediately.

"No milady," Lommy said, coming up to her breathless, "Someone else, a woman – don't know who she is, but she's asked to speak with you."

Arya turned back to the men she had been teaching, "Practice amongst yourselves," she told them. "We'll pick back up tomorrow."

Arya followed Lommy back towards the gates and out into the camp. When she entered her tent, it was crowded with people, including the woman who had asked for her.

"Your Grace," she said solemnly, sinking to one knee.

"I am no Queen, My Lady." Arya said, "Simply a princess. You can rise."

The woman stood tall, and Arya caught sight of the sigil sewn onto the dress underneath her cloak. "Lommy, continue to watch for Ned Dayne, if he arrives notify me at once," she dismissed her squire, before giving the newcomer her full attention.

"You are Lady Mormont?" Arya asked, "I see the Bear on your gown."

"Yes, Lady Maege Mormont. I had the honour of serving your brother, King Robb." She said, rising from her knee. "We heard rumours of your return, and I set out to see if they were true."

"We?" Arya asked directly.

"Yes," Lady Maege confirmed. "Before King Robb left for the Twins, he sent a number of us on ahead, taking the long way around the Twins. We were to meet with him again in the neck – at Greywater Watch. It wasn't until the crannogmen found us, and we arrived at Greywater, that we heard about the Red Wedding. Since then, Howland Reed has been good enough to offer us his hospitality – from there we've ventured out to fight the Iron men when we can. But when rumours made it to us of your return, and your travelling North, I had to come see for sure."

"And now that you have found me, what is it you intend?" Arya asked.

"To fight under your banners, as I once fought under your brother's. The North needs a Stark to rule it: You are the rightful heir, Queen in the North -"

"I am not a queen – the Northmen made my brother King, but Robb never left an heir. There are some who would say Sansa is the rightful heir, since she is my senior. But she is not a Stark; she is a Lannister. It is not known if my brother named an heir, so I am simply a princess. If my men see fit to raise me to a Queen, as once they raised Robb to a King, then I shall not refuse." Arya said, as Lommy rushed back into the tent, panting.

Maege was on the verge of saying something, and Arya could tell from her demeanour that it was something important - perhaps the real reason she had come here - but Lommy cut her off.

"Lady Stark! Ned is returning."

"Thank you," she said to Lommy, before turning back to Lady Mormont. "Forgive me, my lady, but I have important questions for Edric Dayne. If you will excuse me, we will continue this conversation in a little while." Arya apologised, "If you, and your men, go with my squire, he will you take you to Lady Stoneheart's manse and see that you get refreshment. I shall join you there in an hour at most, I apologise for cutting our meeting so brief."

Lady Mormont smiled, "Thank you. Refreshment will be welcome."

"Lommy, seek what food and drink you can – if the manse has nothing to offer, run over to the Peach, and get what you can from Tansy. Norrey, Nott, go with them. Seek out Harwin and Gendry – no doubt they will want to be part of this," Arya commanded, adding to Lady Mormont, "Harwin and Gendry have naturally emerged as the leaders of the Brotherhood. Since taking banners, there are some who are still uneasy about a woman ruling them and so they look to Harwin and Gendry, and follow their lead. Have you met Lady Stoneheart?" Arya asked suddenly.

"No, my lady," Maege shook her head. "I know nothing of this woman, except her reputation for revenge."

"You know more than you think. Maester Mathos, go with them: introduce them to Lady Stoneheart, and prepare them the best you can – Harwin will be able to assist you in explanations. Lady Mormont, Lady Stoneheart took her current name after the Red Wedding. Before it, you knew her as Lady Catelyn Stark. The woman you are going to is my mother." Arya declared, before leaving the tent in a hurry, and heading in the direction of the column now wending its way through the camps.

She didn't have to go far before the returning men were upon her. The leader dismounted from his horse with swift grace, landing in front of her.

"My lady, you've certainly grown since last time we met!" He called out with an easy smile. He was a head taller than Arya, thin but not unhealthy looking. His hair was the pale blonde that Arya remembered, and his eyes were still that deep blue which looked almost purple in the right light.

"Ned Dayne," Arya greeted him with a smile devoid of emotion. "We have been awaiting your return. How far into the Reach did you descend before Harwin's messenger caught up with you?"

"We were a few days past Silverhill, so not far. We were delayed in our return – Lions on the Gold Road." Ned explained briefly.

"Yes, we ran across them too – they're making for King's Landing, and we're stopping them. I've already sent out men to cover the Blackwater and the road." Arya said briskly, wanting to move the conversation along.

"_You_sent?" Ned began, but Arya cut him off.

"Did you hear anything while you were in the Reach? Any whispers about the movements at Highgarden?" She asked him, as they slowly walked through the camp toward the gates of the town.

"I should probably relay everything to Lady Stoneheart," Ned began uncertainly.

Arya sighed, "Lord Edric, look about you and tell me what you see."

Ned did as he was bid, "I see more tents than I when I left."

Arya tried to maintain her patience, "And what do you see flying above said tents. And above the gates," she pointed out as they slowly approached.

"Banners," Ned said with sudden understanding, "The Brotherhood have finally taken banners."

"More particularly, they have taken _my_ banners. I hold command now, and I'm about to embark on a war, so you will tell me of the whispers you heard in the Reach." Arya told him with authority that made him rethink himself – Arya could see he was suddenly nervous, but he recovered himself well.

"We were barely in the Reach a day before we turned back, so we heard little. But we happened across some small folk, who had heard that the army of Highgarden was wanted at King's Landing," Ned began to explain. "But it seems Highgarden is reluctant – they still fear a threat from the Iron born, and don't want to lose even half their army."

Arya thought of this for a moment, and then continued her questioning, "And what of the Iron born? I've been able to discover little and less about their movements since my return."

"We heard plenty of whispers about those, on our travels," Ned assured her. "Every ship they have is gathering at Pyke. They have left a handful of men to guard each holdfast they hold in the North, but the reavers along the coast have been called back."

"Every single vessel is returning to Pyke?" Arya clarified, this unsettled her but she didn't let it show.

"All but the Iron Fleet." Ned affirmed with a nod as they passed through the gates.

Arya stopped, "The Iron Fleet is comprised of their best ships, where have they gone?"

Ned shrugged, "No one is really sure – though they all agree they've gone in search of Dragons, there are a number of interpretations. Some say they mean to join with Aegon-"

"No." Arya interrupted, "The Crow's Eye bartered with Aegon – offering his assistance as long as he kept two Kingdoms and a crown, which in itself doesn't make sense. Aegon refused. Besides, they say they've gone for _dragons_– plural."

"Another theory is they've been sent to Old Valyria and beyond. To find eggs to hatch." Ned put in, but Arya shook her head.

"Wrong again. They've gone for Daenerys – why would they try to hatch dragons when she already has three?" Arya said quietly.

Ned laughed, "You believe the sailor's tales?" He asked incredulously.

"I've been in the free cities for four years," Arya said coldly. "Every sailor that made port told tales of dragons in the east – when that many people tell the same story you know it is a truth."

Ned sobered at that, "So, they're waiting for Daenerys?"

"I don't know," Arya told him. "I don't think so – The last I heard, she was still having troubles controlling the slave cities she has conquered. She calls herself 'Mother' and the slaves she freed are her children – she won't leave them in their current state. But what I do know is that if the Iron born are planning something, we need to move quick." Arya began to walk forward once more, Ned barely a step behind her.

"The sooner the fighting begins, the sooner it will be over," Ned smiled down at her as they walked. "You'll be glad of that I'm sure. This must be hard for you – the burden of being the last Stark, and the duty it demands. But I will be at your side for all of it, and when the fight is done, and we marry, you will be able to live the life of the Lady you were meant to be."

Arya stopped dead in her tracks, and Ned took a couple more steps before he realised Arya wasn't following.

"I beg your pardon? _When we marry_? What makes you presume that will happen?" Arya demanded, as Ned turned to face her.

"Lady Stoneheart…" he began, but faltered at the anger displayed in Arya's eyes. Arya took a moment to control the anger that had flared so suddenly, and took a step toward to Ned.

"Understand me. I do not fight because I have to; I fight because I want to. The woman you see before you is the woman that I am. When this is over, I will rule Winterfell and the North in my own name, in my own right. And if, by some miracle of the gods, I ever do marry, that man will not change who I am, nor will he rule in my name. If you ever make mention of what you have just said to me ever again, I will cut our your tongue." Arya threatened, before turning and marching back towards Lady Stoneheart's manse, her wrath doubling with every step she took.

* * *

**_A/N: We are finally getting somewhere, the next few chapters will see some progress and Arya's war will start. Next chapter is Gendry - I will get as much written as can before next week. I'm taking part in the Quidditch fanfiction comp, and the next round will be starting on Tuesday, and will take up my time for a few days - so the next update will probably be after that._**

**_Thanks for reading and keeping up with the fic - you've all been great and I really appreciate the patience :)_**

**_xBx_**


	10. Chapter 10: Gendry

_**A/N: Yay! A speedy update (well, compared to the last one - I can't promise the next one will be as quick).**_

_**Thanks for all my reviews, you guys are awesome! And thank you for waiting patiently. Last chapters lyrics(which no one seemed to get, this time around) were 'all we are is skin and bone, trained to get along, forever going with the flow' from **_**Treacherous_ by _Taylor Swift._ And they were spoken by Maester Mathos. This chapter has a little something from Sheryl Crow slipped in there :)_**

**_xBx_**

* * *

**Chapter 10: Gendry**

Gendry was hammering away at the folded steel in front of him, the ringing blocking out all noise as he worked on more swords for Arya's army. He was so absorbed in his work that he didn't know he was being called from the doorway until a discarded scabbard hit him in the back of the head.

"What in seven hells was that for?!" Gendry shouted as he whirled around, swinging his hammer and looking ready to attack.

"You didn't hear a bloody word I was saying," Harwin chuckled, shaking his head in that maddening way that left Gendry feeling he was missing something. "We've been summoned to the council chamber – we have a visitor."

"Who is it?" Gendry asked, dropping his hammer, and taking off his apron.

"Lady Maege Mormont of Bear Island – she and her men are being taken to Lady Stoneheart now, with Norrey, Knott and Maester Mathos in attendance. We need to go." Harwin insisted.

Gendry followed him from the forge and over to the manse, "did Arya summon us?"

Gendry was well aware of the frown that Harwin sent his way – he disapproved of Gendry's informality when it came to Arya. But Gendry found it strange to refer to Arya as 'Lady Stark' or 'Princess Arya', after she had vehemently scolded him into continuing to call her 'Arry' all those years ago. In her presence, it was different – calling her 'milady' just seemed to naturally roll of his tongue, despite how often it used to rile her – in all honesty, it was the fact that it did rile her that made him say it. He wished he could see that anger in her again, that fire in her eyes. He thought he had seen the odd flicker once in a while – the other day he had certainly seen it, when he had startled her in the Godswood. But she had quickly regained her composure, and soon the fire was quenched and only ice remained.

"_Princess_ Arya-" Harwin amended him, bringing Gendry's thoughts back to the present, "-sent her squire to gather us. She should be joining us when she can. Ned has returned she wished to speak with him."

Gendry remained silent, but he couldn't stop the scowl from forming. He didn't like Ned; there was just something about him that grated on Gendry's nerves. He was arrogant, and just because he would be the Lord of Starfall he thought that made him better than everyone else. _But that isn't the real reason you dislike him so much,_ a voice in the back of his head goaded. Gendry ignored the voice, and continued to walk in silence - some thoughts are best left alone.

When they entered the council chamber, everyone Harwin had mentioned was already present. Lady Stoneheart was perusing a piece of paper, a strange look on her face as she ran her fingers over the writing near the bottom of the page. Arya's squire, Lommy, was pouring wine and handing goblets round to everyone present. Norrey and Knott were sat at the opposite end of the table from Lady Stoneheart, looking gravely at the others, as though they were reluctant to join the conversation until their liege arrived. Maester Mathos stood close to the door, and looked to share in his fellows' concerns. The other four – whom Gendry didn't recognise, but who he took to be Lady Mormont and her men – were clustered around Lady Stoneheart, watching her warily as she read.

As they entered, Lady Mormont turned and her expression changed rapidly from wary uncertainty to unabashed astonishment as she surveyed Gendry.

"Seven Hells!" Lady Mormont exclaimed, unable to control her outburst. "It's like looking at a ghost. Are there any more dead men walking, whom I should be warned about?" She asked Harwin directly.

"We're all alive here, milady," Harwin assured her. "What is it that Lady Stoneheart is looking at?"

"Hang on," Gendry said – this was one instance in a long line of circumstances in which people around him seemed privy to some information concerning himself, of which he was still ignorant. Hearing of the return of Ned had left a bitter taste in his mouth – for reasons he avoided thinking about – and he was in no humour to suffer obscurities when it came to himself. He was sick of the unexplained looks, the whispers among the older men, and cryptic words of Harwin. There had always been something more important happening at the time and so Gendry had let it slide. But not now: right now they were waiting upon Arya's presence before anything important was to be said. This time, Gendry would get some answers.

"Whose ghost?" Gendry asked Lady Mormont, who frowned.

"What is your name?" She answered his question with one of her own.

"Does it matter? Who do I look like?" he persisted.

"Robert Baratheon. In his youth of course – before he became a fat and lazy drunk." Lady Mormont answered directly, before returning her gaze to Lady Stoneheart.

Gendry digested this new, and rather startling, revelation in complete silence. Did that mean what he thought it meant? He had never known his father's name – his mother had never said. _Could it be possible?_

He turned an accusatory look at Harwin, but Harwin just shook his head, "Not now-" he told Gendry, "-there will be time for that later. What brings you to the Brotherhood, Lady Mormont?" There was his answer, but now he had even more questions - yet once again, it seemed there were more important things to discuss.

"I didn't come seeking the Brotherhood, I came seeking Arya Stark. So that I could bend the knee to the Queen in the North, and offer her the swords I have at my command." She explained.

"Arya isn't a queen," Gendry countered, somewhat harshly - his temper still raised. "Not yet at least."

"Her brother was King, and he named her as his heir. Thus making her Queen," Lady Mormont told them. "If you don't believe me, read it for yourself."

Harwin and Gendry looked to Lady Stoneheart, who nodded and held out the paper she had been reading. Harwin went to take it from her, and quickly scanned the page, "It's real?" he asked of Lady Stoneheart, who nodded again.

"King Robb wrote it, in his own hand, before his army split. He made copies, but no doubt the others were destroyed when the men carrying them were killed. This one, and one in the possession of Jason Mallister, are the only ones left." Lady Mormont explained, "It has been signed by four witnesses – me being one of them – and marked with King Robb's own seal."

"Read it aloud," Gendry called out to Harwin, who dutifully obliged.

"_This is the will and word of Robb of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and King in the North. Should I die with no heir by my lawful wife, the Lady Jeyne of House Westerling, I declare that my crown, Winterfell and the North, pass by rights to my Sister, Arya Stark, a Lady of Winterfell and Princess in the North._

_Should my death occur before Arya is of age, I name my brother, Jon Snow, to rule as regent, until such time as Arya can claim her rights as_ Queen." Harwin read, before looking up at the room again. "It's written in his own hand – all this time, we thought Robb never named his heir."

"Shouldn't we be discussing this with Arya?" Gendry pointed out, "After all, this does concern her – this is her Brother's will, and she is our leader. We should not be discussing this behind her back."

"Which is what I said from the very beginning," Knott agreed.

"Princess Arya seemed reluctant to hold the title of Queen," Lady Mormont said carefully. "When I spoke to her before, she told me she was no queen – she said it would be up to her men to crown her."

"The Princess has no knowledge that this exists," Maester Mathos spoke from the doorway. "She believes her brother died without naming an heir, if she were to know, perhaps she would think different."

"Again, we should not be discussing this without her," Gendry said with force. "She needs to see this, and then we can have this discussion."

"Where are you going?" Harwin called out to Gendry who had turned his back to the group and was stepping toward the door.

"I will not plot behind milday's back," Gendry said over his shoulder. "Until she arrives, I want no more part in this."

Just as he reached out to grab the door handle, the door flew inwards causing Gendry to sidestep just in time before Arya herself stormed into the room. She was furious – that much was easy to see. And while seeing such wrath made the rest of the men take an involuntary step back, the sight made Gendry smile a small smile – the fire in her eyes was back.

"Edric Dayne?" She practically hissed directly at Lady Stoneheart, completely ignoring everyone else in the room. "I hadn't even come back into your life! I had barely set foot back on Westeros, and you had already married me off to _Edric Dayne!_?"

The smile that had been playing on Gendry's lips suddenly dropped and his stomach turned to lead at those words – _Arya was betrothed?_

"Why?" Arya demanded, "Even as a child, you knew that was not who I was! How could I have possibly changed? After what the years, and wars have done to _you_, how could you think they would have changed me in such a way?" Arya continued her tirade, her words becoming louder and sharper.

"Do you forget who I am?" Arya demanded, "Do you forget that I am not Sansa? After all these years, you still want me to be like her. If you want Sansa so badly, go and find her!" Arya shouted, gesturing back towards the door. "But don't expect me to follow. It's high time you see the daughter you have in front of you – I am a Stark. Your precious Sansa is a Lannister – where does your loyalty lie?" Arya demanded.

Gendry held his breath, not daring to move or make a sound – he had never seen Arya like this, especially not since her return. And he wasn't the only one; the rest of the room looked on with wide eyes and wary expressions bordering on fearful. What had started as a family argument had rapidly turn into almost treasonous accusations.

Lady Stoneheart rasped something, of which 'Sansa' and 'choice' was discernable.

"_Not Sansa's Choice?_" Arya repeated with disbelief. What came next sent a chill down Gendry's spine – the shouting was nothing compared to the ice that now dripped from every quiet word that followed.

"Sansa chose the Lannisters before we even made it to King's Landing. On the road, Sansa and her precious prince came upon the butcher's boy and I playing at swords. Joffrey drew his sword and attacked him, and when I went to defend, he turned his blade on me. I had naked steel at my throat, he was ready to spill my life's blood, and if it hadn't been for Nymeria you would have lost a daughter before any of your sons. And do you know what your precious little lady said in that moment? She did not cry out for Joffrey to leave me be, she did not beg him to have mercy. She said '_Arya! You ruin everything_'-" Arya repeated her sisters words deliberately slow, punctuating every word, which sent a shiver down Gendry's spine – _surely her own sister would not have done that? Would not have chosen that pathetic ponse of a prince over her own flesh and blood?_ Gendry thought, _but__ Arya would never lie about something like that._

"-I was an inch from death, but all Sansa cared about was how my dying would ruin her future." Arya let the words hang for a moment, before continuing.

"Sansa became a Lannister that day. And when she was brought in front of the King, she couldn't even muster the Tully in her. _Family, Duty, Honour_: They are your words – but Sansa didn't speak for her family, nor did she do her duty and tell the truth as her King bid her. Instead she protected Joffrey. She was Joffrey's little lap dog, he could do wrong in her eyes. And she went running to Queen Cersei at every chance she got – she was a Lannister long before she married the Imp. And still, you want me to be like Sansa?"

Arya breathed deeply for a few moments, as Lady Stoneheart looked at her with an almost heartbroken expression – it was the most human that Gendry had ever witnessed Lady Stoneheart to be. In a moment Arya seemed to gather herself - the rage calmed, and her next words were delivered with calm authority.

"If you wish to have a perfect lady, such as Sansa, for your daughter, by all means you are free to go and take a dozen men with you to search for her. But do not expect me to follow you – I have an army to lead, a war to fight, and a Kingdom to recover. You will go to Lord Edric, and tell him of the mistake you made in offering me to him. Tell him I have no desire to marry, tell him anything – just fix your mistake. Tomorrow, the council will convene here, to discuss our first move, until then I have nothing more to say." Arya declared, before turning and striding from the room, leaving everyone in an uncomfortable silence.

After a moment, Lommy made to follow but Maester Mathos put a hand on his shoulder and gave a small shake of his head.

"I would give her space," the Maester said, "She is a true Stark, she has the temper of a wolf – let her calm."

Gendry stepped back into the room, striding over to Harwin. Without a word, he snatched the paper from Harwin's hand and strode back toward the door.

"What-?" Harwin started to protest.

"See what happens when people plot behind her back?" Gendry pointed out. "She needs to read this, and the longer we keep it from her, the angrier she will be." He declared, before following Arya's footsteps, and leaving the rest of the council behind.

As he exited the manse he stopped; he had no idea where she might have gone. He had never seen her lose her temper like that – perhaps he had once, when they were younger, but he still didn't know where she would likely go to wait out that anger.

His only idea was that she would crave solitude, and the only place to get that would be the Godswood, so he struck out towards the back of the town. As he neared the forge, he could hear the unmistakable sounds of steel being hammered, which caused him to frown – Brett should not be in there without him.

With a frustrated sigh, he bent his track and entered the forge, stopping short at the sight before him. The blade he had been working on earlier was ingeniously strapped to the anvil, allowing the forger to wield the hammer with two hands. And just how she was managing to swing the weight with such force, and accuracy, Gendry would never know – Arya was tiny, but gods she was strong.

"What in seven hells are you doing?" Gendry shouted above the ringing of steel.

Arya whirled at the sound, the anger still flaring in her eyes, "What does it look like I'm doing, stupid?"

For a moment, she was back – his 'Arry', the girl he had first met, who was full of defiance and passion and fire.

"It looks like you're ruining good steel," Gendry retorted, trying not to smile: despite the anger and tension that filled the room, seeing her so animated – so like her old self - made him happy.

Arya growled – actually growled – as she dropped the hammer and practically tore the blade from its bindings and plunged into a bucket, before tossing it none too gently at Gendry's feet. "I apologise for ruining your perfect steel, sir," she hissed with sarcasm. "Please, tell me where I went wrong so that I may fix it."

Gendry picked up the sword and examined it with surprise, "This is actually not bad – where did you learn to do this?" He asked, looking back up at Arya with a frown.

When his eyes met hers, his stomach dropped: already the fire he had seen earlier was dying, and the ice was taking over again.

"Nowhere," Arya gave her standard answer, and Gendry couldn't help but scowl.

"Nowhere," he repeated, shaking his head. He moved further into the room, tossing the blade back down on the pile of steel still needing to be worked, and retrieved a flagon and two cups from a sideboard. "For four years you have been nowhere? And you expect me to believe you? I know you call me stupid, but I'm not that stupid."

"I spent four years becoming no one, belonging nowhere." Arya countered, not looking at Gendry. "To truly be no one, one must be able to be everyone. And to be everyone one must know something of everything."

Gendry could make neither head not tail of this explanation of contradictions, so instead of a response, he simply handed her a cup of ale.

"Did you know?" Arya asked after a moment.

Gendry frowned, "know what?"

"About Lady Stoneheart's agreement with Ned Dayne." Arya said, and Gendry was relieved to hear some anger in her tone – however slight. The ice may be back in her eyes, but at least it hadn't reached her core yet.

"No. But it was to be expected," he said carefully. "Did you really not see it coming?"

Arya gave him a withering look, "I just lost my temper in front of half my council – of course I did not see it coming." Arya sighed, looking down at the mug in her hands, "I shouldn't have lost my temper."

"I'm glad you did," Gendry said quietly, not looking at Arya anymore.

"Why?" she demanded, in that commanding tone of hers.

"Because it showed me that the Arya Stark I used to know is still in there, somewhere." Gendry looked up at her once again, wearing a frown, "Do you know how different you are? In many ways you're still the same: you're still small and skinny, despite how much you've grown; your hair is the same tones I remember it, and your eyes the same shape and colour. But you're so cold: it's like you're made of ice, you show no emotions in any situation. But just now, when you stormed into the room and took no notice of anyone except Lady Stoneheart, your fire was back. While everyone else took a step back, and visibly coward at your fury, I felt relieved. I finally had proof that the girl I once knew was still in there somewhere – that she can still be found, and brought back. It's gone now: since you set down the hammer, your wall has come back up – that fire has frozen over," Gendry told her, now looking back down at his hands, not wanting to meet her eyes. It was unfair that no emotion registered in her eyes, while he knew everything he was feeling would be so clearly displayed for her to read. He remained silent, waiting for Arya to speak, to maybe even address why she was so cold.

"Why should it be expected?" Arya said eventually, completely avoiding what Gendry had just divulged, "The proposal, why shouldn't it surprise me?"

Gendry sighed, "Because it was spoke of not long after we joined up with the Brotherhood. Lord Beric had the idea not long before the Hound took you."

"And no one thought to mention this to me?" Arya asked calmly.

"Back then, when I first heard it mentioned, you weren't talking to me." Gendry reminded her, "And I didn't know it had been discussed between Ned and your mother-"

"She's not my mother." Arya said quietly.

"What?" Gendry asked, confused. "But Harwin-"

"Before she died, she was my mother. But whatever Lord Beric brought back – it's not Catelyn Stark. I thought it was, but it's not. My mother would not have done that to me." Arya continued to speak quietly, her eyes trained on the mug in her hand, so that Gendry could not see her eyes, nor any emotions that may have been displayed there.

"Are there any more plots I should be made aware of?" Arya then asked, her eyes snapping back up to meet Gendry's. "What was in discussion prior to my arrival?"

"Lady Mormont was telling us to convince you to take your title of Queen in the North." Gendry admitted, "I was about to come look for you – I felt the conversation shouldn't continue until you were there, but before I could leave you arrived."

Arya shook her head looking exasperated, "She called me 'Your Grace' when I first saw her – I told her it isn't in my power, Robb never named me his heir."

Gendry drew out the letter from his pocket and held it out, "this says different," he said quietly.

Confusion flittered briefly across Arya's features, but Gendry saw it. She took the paper wordlessly, and unfolded it to read its contents. Gendry watched her closely as she read, but was little rewarded for his efforts. Her eyes flickered momentarily with some emotion, but it was over too quickly for Gendry to interpret it. He was amazed – truly amazed – at how in so short a time she had quelled every feeling that had previously risen, and restored that cold and blank façade. After a moment, Arya's fingers went to trace over the same words Lady Stoneheart had seemed to trace.

"Robb-" Arya whispered, and Gendry could hear in her voice that – while she didn't show it in her features – the words written in front of her had effected her. Whatever else she was about to say was drowned out by the sudden howling that erupted from somewhere nearby. While it made Gendry start, he wasn't too concerned – after only a few days of Arya's presence, Gendry had become accustomed to Nymeria and her pack.

Arya cleared her throat, and tried again, "Robb named _me_ his heir. He never believed me dead."

"So it would seem," Gendry nodded, "You can call yourself Queen: if you want it, you can have it – there are many in the North who would bend the knee, I'm sure. If it's what you want."

"It's not having what you want, it's wanting what you have," Arya said, folding up the letter and tucking it into the doublet she wore – as ever she was dressed in men's garb. "I can call myself Queen, but will men follow?"

"I think they would," Gendry said seriously. "Especially if the right people start – many will follow wherever Harwin and I lead."

"They are still struggling to see me as a princess, let alone a Queen."

"Then make them see you as one," Gendry suggested. Struck by a sudden thought her went into the corner and delved to the bottom of his travelling pack. Returning to his seat, he elaborated, "You already act the part – no one can doubt your authority. But maybe it wouldn't hurt to look the part," he suggested, holding out the bundle to her.

Arya looked at it, as cold as ever, "I hope you're not suggesting I start wearing gowns."

"That wouldn't be very practical to fight in," Gendry grinned. "No, I'm not – just take the damn thing."

Arya took the package he was offering, and unwrapped it to reveal the crown inside. Her eyebrows rose at the sight, but no other mark of surprise crossed her features, "You made this."

It wasn't a question, but Gendry affirmed it none the less.

"When?" Arya asked him, and Gendry could feel her gaze on him though he never lifted his eyes.

"Years ago," Gendry admitted with a shrug. "A girl I knew was angry at a bad decision I had made. I was hoping to give it to her as a peace-offering, so that she might be presented to her brother, the King in the North, looking more like a proper princess."

The silence that followed felt like an eternity to Gendry, who still couldn't bring himself to look up at Arya and see her reaction. Eventually, just when he thought he would go mad with suspense, the silence was broken.

"Thank you," Arya said quietly. "I like it – it's very fitting for one of the North."

Gendry looked up at her then, wondering if she was really telling the truth, "You do?"

Arya nodded, "I've heard what Robb's crown was like – this is like a smaller version. You used the same metals."

Gendry nodded, trying to ignore the surge of pride that he felt at Arya's commendation. "I'm glad it pleases you, milady."

Arya's eyes narrowed, and suddenly the tongs that were on the bench beside her were sailing through the air towards Gendry's head.

"Don't call me, milady." Arya growled, sounding so much like her old self that Gendry wondered it was a habit she had little control over.

"Seven hells!" Gendry yelled, as he threw himself to the side so that the tongs narrowly missed him, "what did you throw them for?"

"There wasn't any crab-apples handy," she retorted with smirk, so quick that Gendry was sure Arya had not thought of the words before she had spoke them.

He was momentarily caught by surprise that she would remember that – it had been years; it was one of last times she had actually spoken to him. He couldn't help it; he let out a startled laugh.

"You remember that?" He asked sounding amazed.

"I do." Arya said quietly, barely louder than a whisper, before looking away from Gendry and back down into her lap. Silence reigned for a moment more, before Arya suddenly stood.

"I need to go – I have to speak with Lady Mormont. And then I need to go over the plans for tomorrows meeting." Arya looked up again, meeting Gendry's eyes once more, "Thank you, for this-" she gestured the crown in her hands, which she then folded back in its rags, "- it's exactly what I was needing."

She left then, quickly, leaving Gendry to his thoughts, which were more confusing than they had ever been. Arya was intoxicating – there was no other word for it. Even though he was holed up in the forge for hours on end, he still took brief respites. Whenever he would step outside into the cold winter air to cool off, his eyes would automatically seek out her form. And when they found rested on her, they were mesmerised: when she was sparring in the training yard, she had a grace about her that was almost unreal. In everything she did, she excelled; her arrows never missed their targets - and she had made some interesting shots. Gendry's personal favourite was shooting a crow as it flew overhead, with such precision it landed at her feet – the smirk she had given Anguy after that particular feat was one he would never forget (Anguy's previous attempt at such a shot missed its mark).

And on those rare occasions when the ice behind her eyes seemed to melt, Gendry thought he could look into them forever without ever wanting to turn away. He was now very much aware of her beauty – more so since the incident in the woods. When she had tackled him to the ground, it wasn't just her strength and speed that had surprised him; it was how much he enjoyed the contact. It was the first time he had touched her since he had hugged her on her return. And to feel her again, to know she was solid and very much real, eradicated all doubts of her staying that he never knew he had. The feel of her hand on his chest, her legs tight around his waist, was something he never wanted to let go of – and it was this that truly surprised him. At the time, he had never wanted her to move, but his mind had begun to wander into dangerous territory – he was thinking things that would get him arrested, anyone were to discover them – and removing her from his waist was a necessity rather than a want.

That had been the first time he had really seen Arya in that light: she was beautiful – she always had been, even when they were young he had seen a beauty in her strength – and now every time he saw her, he had to consciously stop himself from thinking about the feel of her in his arms. Unfortunately, his mind ran riot while he slept, and if anyone ever discovered the content of his dreams, he would likely be castrated – nevermind arrested: This was Arya: his liege, his princess – who would one day be his Queen. And he was just a bastard knight: the thoughts he had could never happen.

_But your not just a common bastard,_ a voice in his head countered, _apparently you're a King's bastard_.

Gendry stood up, and began stoking the furnace to bring up the heat. Could he truly be King Robert's bastard? It would fit with the few things that Harwin had mysteriously said; it would explain the whispers. But why keep it quiet?

This startling revelation brought about more questions than it had answered, and Gendry was frustrated with what he had learnt: He had never liked King Robert - he was a drunken sot - and now he was being told he was like him, because he was the man's son. And to be told so bluntly - to be delivered the blow and then not talk about it, to not have his questions answered, was just too much to take.

When the furnace was ablaze once more, Gendry took out his frustrations the best way he knew how.

* * *

**_A/N: So, Gendry finally knows the truth, but will it change anything? I have the next couple of chapters well planned out - I've even drafted a few parts of both, but it still might be a couple of weeks before they're ready to be posted._**

**_Thanks for reading, and I'll update as soon as I can._**

**_xBx_**


	11. Chapter 11: Arya

_**A/N: Yay, I'm back with another update! We're back to Arya's pov, and we're slowly pushing the storyline along.**_

_**Thanks for all my reviews - you guys are great, and I'm loving the feedback :) Last chapter's lyric was 'It's not having what you want, it's wanting what you have' which is from **_**Soak up the Sun,_ by _Sheryl Crow._ This chapter has a lyric from a Little Big Town song - if you find it, let me know :D A few chapters ago, Mariion gave me some song suggestions to use - I haven't forgotten them, I've got some lyrics picked out, but they will be used a little further in :)_**

**_Now I'll let you read, enjoy!_**

**_xBx_**

* * *

**Chapter 11: Arya**

Arya left the forge briskly; still carrying the crown bundled in one hand and her brother's letter close to her heart. It had affected her, a lot more than she thought it would. After four years of being no one, she had successfully learnt to quell all emotions to the point of not feeling anything. But since her return to Westeros - no, since her return to the Brotherhood - emotions were beginning to make their way back to the surface.

Since starting her first apprenticeship at the house of black and white, Arya had never lost he temper. But today, she had exhibited the wrath of her former self; she was losing control and she desperately needed to regain it.

As she trudged through the snow, back out to her tent, she let her mind relax and reached out to sense Nymeria - she was somewhere near, for when Arya had read her brother's words Nymeria had howled out the emotions that Arya was unable to express.

When she entered her tent she found Lommy, Mathos, Nymeria and her raven waiting for her. The raven flew from its perch to her shoulder as soon as she came through the flap, demanding food in the common tongue as well as Braavosi.

Nymeria looked at her with eyes of understanding – she had felt Arya's emotions earlier, and could possibly still feel them now. Yet she remained stationary, sitting at the foot of the cot, waiting for Arya to come to her.

It was Mathos who broke the silence: "Did Gendry seek you out?"

"He did," she affirmed, but made no mention of their discourse. "Lommy, could you gather something for supper: could you also seek out Lady Mormont and her men. Ask them to sup with me – I promised them an audience, and I should like to keep my word."

"At once, milady." Lommy promptly disappeared.

"Shall I leave you?" Maester Mathos asked, trying to gauge Arya's state of mind.

"No, you shall sup with us also. If it please you." Arya took a seat at the table and placed the bundle before her. "Sir Gendry gave me this," she said, unfolding the fabric and displaying the crown.

"Bronze and steel," Mathos commented. "A true Northern crown. Fit for a Princess, but perhaps not a Queen."

"But I am not a Queen," Arya pointed out.

"Not yet," Mathos ventured carefully and Arya sighed.

"Not yet."

They were silent many minutes, until Lommy returned and began preparing the table for the meal.

"Shall you wear it now?" Maths asked, indicating the crown.

Arya nodded slowly, "I don't see any reason not to." But she didn't venture to remove the crown from the fabric. It was only a circlet of bronze and steel, but to Arya it was so much more: once she donned her crown, there would be no turning back. She would be a princess, in more than just words, and the next step would be queen. And then she would most definitely be _someone_.

She had been no one for four years - was she ready to allow herself to be Arya Stark again? Arya Stark's memories had been coming back more forcefully since her return, but with the memories came the emotions. She had almost forgotten what it was like to feel - and some days she still retained enough of her training to continue to feel nothing. But today, she had felt more than she had felt in a long time: anger had boiled her blood, disappointment had cooled it, and the full realisation that she had truly lost her mother had saddened her. She had been saddened to the point that, when Gendry had handed her a paper covered in her brother's hand, she had been hard pressed to stop her eyes from tearing up.

"Allow me." Mathos interrupted her reverie gently, and lifted the circlet from the table to position it on her head. A perfect fit. Arya gathered herself together, more easily suppressing the emotions coursing through her now, than before.

"Does it suit?" she asked Mathos, with a smile she knew wouldn't be reflected in her eyes.

"Very well," Mathos assured, before turning to assist Lommy in his preparations. Nymeria chose that moment to pad over to Arya, an intelligent, querying look in her eyes, her head cocked to the side in silent question.

Arya smiled at her wolf - perhaps the only one to understand Arya, better than Arya understood herself. Nymeria gave a whine, and nudged her nose into Arya's shoulder, causing her to laugh.

"I'm fine, Nymeria," Arya assured her wolf quietly, so that no one else would hear. "We'll have our revenge: me for Robb, and you for Grey Wind. Seeing his hand was painful - but it's the pain that brings my force of nature back to life. Now go hunt - I know you want to."

Nymeria padded to the entrance of the tent, looking back once more before exiting. Not long after Nymeria had vacated, Lady Mormont appeared, her men following behind her. Norrey, Liddle and Wull, of her own men, joined them also - Knott remained absent, as the task of training Lommy with the sword fell to him this evening. When the table was set with the food, Arya gave Lommy leave to go.

"We are more than capable of serving ourselves," Arya assured the lad. "No you go make sure you are more than capable with a sword - you'll be needing that skill soon enough."

Arya waited for Lommy to depart, before addressing her guest of honour, "Lady Mormont, I offer you my apologies for the outburst you witnessed earlier-"

"Not at all, Princess," Maege smiled. "It rather confirmed to us, that you are who you say you are. Having never met you before, I had only your brother's representation of you to go off. You certainly look like a Stark - you are very much your father's daughter."

"Thank you," Arya smiled. "I hope I will turn out like him in more than just looks."

"Time will tell," Maege smiled back. "Robb said you had a passionate personality - that as a girl in Winterfell, you never failed to make your opinions known."

Arya laughed, "That's one way of phrasing it, to be sure."

They spent a rather enjoyable meal, swapping stories about the Robb Stark they all knew - Arya told tales she had thought long forgotten, of times in Winterfell, and Maege and her men told Arya something of Robb's skills in the battle. Towards the end of the meal, Arya ventured to ask about the girl whom Robb had wed. After receiving a genial, yet commonplace assessment of Jeyne Westerling, Arya was still unsure how the match had come about. But, instead of pressing the matter, she moved onto more key topics.

"You were not with Robb, when he went to the Twins," Arya said, not mentioning the Red Wedding in so many words, but everyone suddenly sobered as if the words had been spoken aloud.

"No," Maege confirmed. "Before his grace set forth for the twins, he sent a good number of us north, on a different route: we sailed up from Seaguard. We were sent as envoys to the Crannogmen."

"And how did that go?" Arya asked, refilling her cup, and passing the jug along to the man at her side.

"Well," Maege assured. "We found the crannogmen - or rather, they found us - and they led us to Greywater Watch. Lord Howland welcomed us, and would have complied with all that King Robb had asked. Only word reached us about the wedding. Since then, we've stayed where we were. Howland was generous enough to extend his hospitality, if we helped defend his lands. Howland Reed's health is failing, but he recovered some when the rumours of your return reached Greywater. He bids me tell you, that he shall give you the support that he would have pledged your brother."

"How many men?" Arya asked.

"Roughly a dozen score," Maege admitted. "Not many, but every little helps. And you can be assured of all their swords."

"Thank you. What do you know of the Iron men's movements in the North?" Arya asked then, getting to the main topic she wanted to discuss. It was one of the men who answered.

"They're getting fewer, that's for sure. But they still have a good hold."

"How so?" Arya pressed.

"They have a small number of men holding Moat Cailin and Thorren's Square. But the rest have made their way back to Pyke - why we don't know."

"The last of their ships left the mainland a few days before we started south," another joined in. "There has been no reason for a retreat-"

"So they are planning something," Arya finished his sentence. "And what of Deepwood Motte?"

"Forever changing hands, but never to the Iron men; always one North Lord or another," Maege said. "This is why the other two are so lightly manned: they don't see much threat coming their way. The Northmen are busy fighting alongside the Night's watch, or amongst themselves - there is no man to spare, to take back the other holdfasts. The Bolton bastard still rules Winterfell in your name, despite your impostor's disappearance, and only fights those who try to take him down: He doesn't stir from behind the walls."

Arya sat thoughtful and quiet, as the rest of her men continued to discuss the movements of the Iron-men. As she listened, her mind was racing; thinking of the purpose behind the seemingly pointless retreat, as well as what her first move was to be. The party broke up not long after that, Maege and her men returning to where they were to be spending the night, and Arya's men back to their sleeping tent.

Arya remained sat up into the night; once the table had been cleared of the remains of supper, she covered it with maps, and poured over them in silence for an hour or so, before finally retiring for the night.

When morning came, Arya left her tent to break her fast with her men, as she was accustomed to do. When she approached the cook fire, she was distracted by the conversation she overheard between Lothor Knott and another.

"-bloody well told you so, didn't I?" Knott was saying. "Told you that blacksmith had his look."

"So you reckon they're certain? He is King Robert's bastard?"

"I'd swear my life on it - I was there when it came out, and that Harwin bloke confirmed it."

"Swear you life on what?" Arya interrupted, coming upon them.

The men jumped up at her voice, "Beg pardon, princess," Knott said. "We didn't see you there."

"That's quite all right. What did Harwin confirm?"

"About that blacksmith-"

"Sir Gendry?" Arya supplied, a hint of ice in her tone, warning her men to show respect.

"Aye, sir Gendry," Knott repeated, sounding more respectful. "Is it true he's a Baratheon bastard? One of Roberts?"

As soon as Knott had said it, Arya realised it was true - how could she have not seen it before? Going over everything she knew, she realised it was actually quite an obvious surmise. But she didn't let this realisation show. "Does it matter?" she asked her men, before changing the subject directly. "Knott, gather the usual, we have a meeting in a half hour."

"Yes, Princess."

Arya turned back to her tent with the thought of breakfast forgotten, seeking out Lommy on the way to task him with gathering her maps still out on the table, and taking them up to Lady Stoneheart's solar, where the meeting would be held. In her tent she strapped needle to her waist and picked up her crown - if ever she needed to look the part of authority it was today. When that was accomplished, Arya turned to exit the tent, but before she reached the flap her raven gave a disgruntled squawk and flew to her shoulder. Arya frowned at the bird, "Don't want to feel left out?"

The bird squawked again, and this time spoke: "Winter," it cawed, and then a moment later, "coming."

Arya stopped short, "who taught you _that_?" She asked, amazed. Of course she received no answer, and so she continued on her way, the raven staying put on her shoulder the whole time. Arya made her way through the gates of the town, with the intent of finding Gendry. She could tell, yesterday, that something was playing on his mind, but she had been completely distracted with her brother's letter, and so she had not questioned him about it.

She found him in the forge, hammering away at the steel with as much ferocity as Arya had felt yesterday. The raven took flight when she reached the doorway - whether it was too noisy, or too hot, she didn't know. Either way, the bird preferred to sit at the window. She watched Gendry work, taking in his form, and noticing that he wielded the hammer so naturally, it was as if it was an extension if himself - _another likeness I should have picked up on,_ she mused.

"Gendry," Arya spoke after a moment, alerting him to her presence. Gendry turned to look at her and it was obvious he was still distracted.

"Council in ten minutes," Arya reminded him.

"Right." He put down his tools and removed his apron, hanging it on a peg.

"You seem distracted," Arya commented.

"I'm fine."

Arya didn't believe that for a second, and so she decided to be blunt - time was a luxury they really didn't have right now. "I'd be distracted too, if I'd just found out my father was a King."

Gendry looked up, suspicion clear in his eyes, "Did you know?"

Arya shook her head, "If I had known, I would have told you. I swear it. But, looking back, I should have really figured it out – it is quite obvious."

"Is it?" Gendry asked, sounding both incredulous and irate.

"Yes," Arya confirmed, explaining herself fully. "You look like him a little bit – well, I see your resemblance to Renly Baratheon, and my father used to say that Renly was the image of Robert when he was young. Except Robert was broader in the shoulder, and a bigger build – like you, I would imagine. You have the same hair, the same eyes. And then there were the Gold Cloaks: the reason they wanted your head is painfully obvious now."

"Not really," Gendry countered. "I'm just a bastard – I might be a King's bastard, but I'm still just a bastard."

"No," Arya opposed him forcefully, Gendry's bull headed stubbornness beginning to irritate her. "You're more than 'just a bastard', you're King Robert's bastard. You are clearly a Baratheon, and not only that, you are probably his eldest male son."

"So?"

"Tommen, who sits the throne now, and Joffrey, who sat on it before him, don't have a single drop of Baratheon blood," Arya explained patiently, repeating the takes she gad heard over the years, and voicing for the first time her own beliefs. "I believe my father discovered this, somehow. And I think it's why he was arrested. They are Lannisters, through and through. Which makes you, King Robert's eldest son – so you have a better claim to the Iron Throne, than the boy currently sitting on it. That's why there was a bounty on your head, why you were suddenly shipped off to the Nights Watch: it wasn't that your master got sick if you, he was trying to protect you. This could potentially be a slightly awkward situation."

"Are you saying I should stake my claim?" Gendry asked, looking uncertain.

Arya shrugged, "That's up to you – do you want to be King of the Seven Kingdoms? Because if you did, I'm sure the Brotherhood is only a handful of the men who would back your claim."

"Seven Hells, no!" Gendry said fiercely, without a second's thought. "I know nothing about ruling a Kingdom. And besides, the Brotherhood follow you, not me."

"Are you sure?" Arya pressed. "You know who you are now-"

"I'm still the same as I was three days ago: a bastard knight and a blacksmith, who's tolerable with a blade and even better with a hammer," Gendry assured her. "I may be the bastard of a King, but it doesn't mean I have the makings of a King. And besides – haven't you declared your support for Aegon?"

"I have," Arya nodded. "Which is the awkward situation I referred to: After Aegon has graciously provided me with men and supplies, it would have been rather rude of me to turn my cloak and support another."

Gendry looked surprised at her words, "You'd transfer your allegiance to me?"

"Of course," Arya said simply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I don't know Aegon, but I know you. You're my oldest friend – you were part of my pack – you followed me when I asked; it would only be right for me to follow you. Does that change your mind? Are you re-considering your hasty dismissal of your claim to the throne?"

Gendry shook his head, "No. I still don't want to be King."

"In that case, we have plans to make," Arya declared, turning to leave. "I will see you in five minutes."

She made her way to Lady Stoneheart's solar, where everyone she had asked for was gathered around the table. She had her four leading men who had followed her from he south, as well as Harwin, Lady Stoneheart, Ned Dayne and Anguy. Lady Mormont and her men were also there, as was the two commanding men - Shore and Manton - that Aegon had sent with her.

"Lommy," Arya called as she approached the table, "Serve us some light ale – we might be here awhile, and we will need to be refreshed."

As Lommy began pouring cups and handing them around, the room quieted but Arya refused to speak until all were present. Barely two minutes passed before the door opened and Gendry entered, no trace of their previous conversation marking his features. He gave a nod of acknowledgement to Arya and a quiet apology for keeping her waiting, before taking a seat next to Harwin.

"Now we're all assembled," Arya finally spoke. "We can begin." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her mother's mouth twitch into a sad smile for the briefest second and she knew she had just emulated her father again, for only that could have caused such a reaction.

She turned to the maps in front of her and the others gathered around closer. "We're currently in the heart of the Lion'sden: The Lannisters at the rock will be trying to cross to King's Landing as we speak - Lem and Brune have already taken men out to stop them. We've been stationary too long - we need to march. The question is, where?"

"North, surely," Harwin said slowly. "Isn't that the whole reason for your return? To take back the north?"

Arya nodded slowly, not taking her eyes off the map. "From what I understand, the ironmen still claim to hold the north, but they are ruling from Pyke."

"That's so," Ned joined in, and he began relaying the information he had previously said to Arya upon his return. Throughout his entire speech he never once looked Arya in the eye, even though Arya's gaze never wandered from him. Arya had moved on from yesterday's misunderstanding, but Ned appeared to have not. When he ceased speaking, Arya added the information she had previously learnt from Maege and her men, the evening before, with the odd input from her and her men.

"And in King's Landing-" Arya continued, "- the Lannisters are preparing to fight Prince Aegon, neither of whom care much for the North at the moment, as the North will give allegiance to neither. Or so the ironmen believe."

Arya stared intently at the map, voicing her thoughts without looking up, "If we go North, we have no choice but to take Moat Cailin. As soon as we do, they will send word to Pyke, and their other holdfasts. They will sail from Pyke up the Saltspear, and we will be taken from behind. You can guarantee the ironmen will have enough supplies to last a siege until their fellows can come to their aid."

_We need to do something to stop them sailing,_ Arya thought, _We also need more men_. Her mind was working fast, drawing on the half-formed ideas that had been running through her head the previous night. Arya looked up at the two men who had travelled with her from Storms End at Aegon's request.

"When we left Storms End, Prince Aegon was finalising plans to storm King's Landing," she said to them directly. "And when we joined with Harwin, I sent him word of our progress. If I'm right, He and his host will be marching soon." Arya said, and they both nodded.

"It's likely they're marching as we speak," Shore confirmed.

Arya looked back at the map: by her estimation, it was just as far from Stoney Sept to King's Landing as it was from Storms end. But they were a smaller host than Prince Aegon's, they could move quicker, a majority could even travel down the Blackwater Rush, getting there in a matter of days over the ice. Arya chewed her lip thoughtfully, frowning, while the others watched her carefully and quietly.

"What's troubling you?" Gendry said suddenly, speaking for the first time.

"What do you mean?" She looked up at him, masking the surprise she felt at his seeming to read her so well.

Gendry smiled a small smile, "You may have changed a fair bit since you went away, but you've still retained something of the girl I knew. You would always bite your lip when you were thinking hard, or making a difficult decision. Bite any harder, and you're going to draw blood. What's wrong?" He repeated

"Nothing's wrong." She assured them all, while pondering the meaning of Gendry's knowledge of her. At the same time, she mentally kicked herself for letting old habits come back so easy – biting her lip had been the hardest habit to let go, and the easiest one to get back. "How much good steel do we have?" She asked Gendry directly, bringing back her authoritative tone.

"Define good?" He asked her, and she frowned – surely he knew what she meant? "We have enough usable steel to arm each man twice. It's good steel in that it will hold up well enough in a battle. But it's not as fine steel as Needle."

Arya nodded, "That's good. We don't need finesse, we need strength." She looked to the rest. "We move for King's Landing in a matter of days." Arya declared, and she was unsurprised to see the confused looks.

"We need more men to take the North," she said simply. "We help Aegon take the Iron throne, he'll give more men to help my cause. We are fewer than his host, we can make the journey to King's Landing quicker in good time, and meet his host a few miles out. We will separate: One group shall travel east, directly, and meet with Aegon's men who - if my calculations are correct - will be returning right about now, from the Vale. Another shall travel the south side of the Blackwater, meeting Aegon's main host coming up from storms end. And a number of us will go over ice – along the Blackwater – getting there quicker, and getting inside the city walls." She said, a plan taking shape in her mind as she spoke.

"We will create a diversion, that will allow us to open the gates. When the timing is right, Aegon's army will meet little resistance. And when Aegon holds the city, and is declared King on the Iron Throne, we will take our strength North, and reclaim what is ours with ease."

"There is sense, to be sure," Harwin said slowly. "But can you be certain he will increase our number."

Arya looked to Aegon's men, and Manton answered for her: "He will. He offered her three times as many men as she brought north. The smallness of our host backing her was Lady Stark's choice, not ours."

"And the fact that no man of the North has come forward to bend the knee to him is not going to hinder his decision? "Harwin asked, ever cautious.

"The North have shown no love to the Lannisters, that is all that matters right now. Lady Stark brokered and alliance, His Grace accepts that, even with the knowledge that the North seems to like naming Kings of their own."

Arya smiled, "Fear not, Harwin. We have his word. I will write to Prince Aegon before the day is done, and tell him of our plans. You should tell your men what we plan to do, make sure they are ready." She commanded.

As they began to leave, Arya called a few back, "Gendry, Harwin, Lady Stoneheart. Stay a moment. And you, Shore."

When the door was closed behind the departed men, the remaining four looked at her intently, waiting. Aside from Gendry who looked at her shrewdly, a knowing smile lighting his eyes – though only Arya noticed the smile.

"Are we about to hear the real reason we're going to King's Landing?" He asked.

Arya smiled a small smile, "I told the truth before: we are going to fight along side Aegon and help him take his throne. But you're right, there's another reason I want _King_ Aegon in King's Landing, as opposed to _Prince_ Aegon at Storms End." She looked at them all, "We're about to play the Ironmen at their own game. Only we're going to play it better."

* * *

_**A/N: The plot is slowly moving forward. **_

_**I'm no longer taking part in the fanfiction comp - it was a team decision, there were a number of reasons, one of which being that we were neglecting our multi-chapter fics. You guys have been amazingly patient waiting for updates, and from now on they will be much more regular.**_

_**I already half the next chapter written, so I will post it next week :)**_

_**-Bec**_


	12. Chapter 12: Gendry

_**A/N: **__**So **__**sorry f**__**or t**__**he d**__**elay **__**with th**__**is c**__**hapter, R**__**L to**__**ok a s**__**urprising **__**turn, b**__**ut th**__**ings **__**are **__**settling **__**down ag**__**ain **__**maybe **__**I c**__**an fi**__**nally **__**get b**__**ack **__**into **__**a **__**settled **__**routine.**_

_**Thank **__**you f**__**or a**__**ll **__**my r**__**eviews, **__**you **__**guys **__**are a**__**wesome, **__**and I l**__**ove y**__**ou a**__**ll for **__**sticking w**__**ith **__**me, an**__**d **__**patiently **__**waiting **__**for u**__**pdates.**_

_**Last c**__**hapter's ly**__**rics w**__**ere '**_**but i****t's ****the ****pain ****that ****brings ****my f****orce of ****nature ****back t****o l****ife' a**_**nd **__**the s**__**ong **__**was **_**Tornado, **_**by **_**Little ****Big T****own. _T_**_**his ch**__**apter h**__**as a **__**Delta **__**Goodrem **__**lyric if y**__**ou fin**__**d i**__**t, let **__**me k**__**now **__**:D**_

_**xBx**_

* * *

**Chapter****12: G****endry**

"I don't follow," Gendry began. He wasn't the only one who seemed to be confused here, but he was the only one not too proud to admit it.

"You're not the only one." She told him, "I didn't expect anyone to follow that train of thought. I didn't even expect anyone to realise there was an ulterior motive for taking a detour to King's Landing, so you're further ahead than most." She told him.

He thought he saw a smile, a secret smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, but he couldn't be sure. Since her return, Gendry had been watching Arya closely more so than he realesed and he was now starting to notice the little things that everyone else overlooked.

Right now, all her emotions were once again locked up tight – yesterday he had noticed that she seemed to be more like her old self. She had shown anger, she had shown grief – not a lot, but a little. Yet now, she had gone back cold – but not completely. All the while she had been talking, Gendry had never taken his eyes from her; he had noticed her eyes. There was something stirring behind them – some undefined emotion that she was not quelling completely. It was only faint, but it was definitely something: the ice had finally cracked, and his Arya was finally breaking through.

"When Theon took Winterfell " Arya spoke clearly, bringing Gendry's train of thought back to the present, " he sent the majority of his men to lay a siege at Torrhen's Square. Winterfell sent their remaining fighting men south to defend, and Theon snuck over the walls and took the place with only a handful of men."

Gendry had no idea how she knew this – as he understood, all this had happened when they were on the run, possibly in Harranhal. If they had been at Harranhal at the time, that could explain her knowledge – perhaps she learnt of it while serving Lord Tywin? No one else seemed to concern themselves with how she knew this information, and so Gendry didn't bother to ask – he could ask her later if he really wanted to.

"We're going to do something similar, but in a slightly bigger way," Arya declared. "Their ships sit at anchor around Pyke, all those left along the shorelines are currently returning – soon enough every vessel, apart from the Iron Fleet, will be anchored there."

"You mean to attack Pyke?" Harwin asked, clearly under the impression that Arya had lost her mind. And while Gendry had to admit it sounded crazy, he knew her well enough to know she had something up her sleeve.

"We're going to make sure the Ironmen can not sail to the mainland: We're going to burn their fleet, every last vessel will be destroyed." She said simply. "The main host will march north. But I will send a small group ahead, in the direction of Seaguard, and when they reach the coast they will take a discreet vessel, and travel under the cover of night, to take the Ironmen unawares. It will take great care, great precision, and most importantly, great stealth. Half their ships will be aflame before they know it, and by then it will be too late to save the rest from going up as well."

There was a moment of quiet, as everyone digested this new piece of information. Gendry looked around the table for the first time – _did no one else spot the obvious flaw in this plan? _

"How do you mean to accomplish this? As I understand it, water is used to put out flames," Gendry said, not hesitating in using sarcasm. He was well aware of Harwin and Lady Stoneheart shooting him dark looks for daring to speak to a princess – and now his liege in such a way. But Arya wasn't a traditional lady, she never had been, and she hated being treated as such Gendry had learnt that quick enough.

He continued his point in the same tone: "And you're planning to set fire to ships, that will be sat on a very plentiful supply of water. Enlighten us as to how you believe this plan will succeed, if you please, milady." He added the 'milady' in an attempt to appease Harwin's notions of what was right. Arya gave him a threatening glare – for some reason she hated it when Gendry called her that. Yet Gendry couldn't find it in himself to stop – it didn't feel like a formality when he said it to Arya, it was more like a nickname: he was the stupid bull, and she was milady.

After shooting her glare at Gendry, Arya looked back at the group as a whole, a cunning smile beginning to grace her features. "Which brings us back to why I need King Aegon in King's Landing: There are some fires that even water can not quench." She said, giving Shore a significant look.

Shore seemed to understand her immediately. "You want to destroy their fleet with wildfire," he stated quietly, a wary look in his eyes.

As soon as he said the word 'wildfire' Harwin's eyes went wide, and even Lady Stoneheart shifted, clearly uncomfortable with the suggestion. Gendry didn't know what to think – he had heard the tales about the Battle of the Blackwater, and the wildfire. It was unpredictable, uncontrollable – he wasn't sure if this was a good idea, but at the end of the day, it wasn't his place to contradict her. She was their leader, their ruler; her word was their law.

"Arya, you can't be serious, it's too dangerous," Harwin warned her, his own courtesies plainly forgotten in the moment of shock at such a rash plan.

"If it's done discreetly, carefully and properly, it's not. I have no doubt that a pyromancer will make up one of the team, to ensure everything is done right, if I request it. This is why I need the most careful and surest of men. In the cover of night, I need someone to plant wildfire in the ships. I then need a good couple of archers to launch fire arrows at the ships. The wildfire will do the rest of the work – burning up everything it touches until there is nothing left. The Ironmen will believe themselves under attack, but when they come ready to fight, they will find no foe. When this is done, we will advance on the North. If we time it right, we will reach Moat Cailin after the fleet has burned – when they send word of attack, and a request for help, there will be no hope to give.

The ironmen will be stranded on Pyke until the iron fleet returns, or they build more ships."

"How will you know when to march?" Gendry asked shrewdly. "You can't be in two places at once." Somehow though, even as he said it, he knew Arya was going to somehow manage to do just that.

Arya looked at her raven, which had been perched in the corner for the entire meeting, silently watching everyone in turn. "This bird, is quite a clever bird," she said carefully, "I have been the only human to whom it has taken quite a liking to. And in turn, I've grown quite attached to thing – almost as attached as I am to Nymeria." She said significantly, letting the words hang in the air and Gendry understood perfectly.

He wagered he was the only one who did, as he was the only one who seemed to know about Arya being a Warg, as she called herself. Once again, Arya had seen something in him that made her trust him with her biggest secret. He could't understand it; no one had ever trusted him with anything before, especially not their life. And yet, Arya had barely known him a month when she told him who she truly was, and knowingly placed her life in his hands. Then just the other day, she had done the same thing and she shared her biggest secret – or one of, he had a feeling there was a lot of things she had left out about her time across the Narrow Sea.

He hadn't spoken to her since, about her startling revelation, and part of him was glad. It wasn't something he could easily get his head around, and if he was truly honest with himself the idea scared him slightly: it was not just Nymeria she could control, she had the ability to reach out into the skins of any animal, and if she truly wanted to any person.

"Right," Gendry said quietly, "You _are _going to be in two places at once."

Arya didn't draw attention to his comment, "I'm not telling the others this – the fewer who know, the better. You are the only people whom I trust enough to tell, and to help me see this through. Lady Stoneheart, I want you to take one boat, and three men – of your own choosing. Pick three whom you trust the most; I will trust your judgement. Harwin, you will do the same. Out of every man following me, you two are the ones who can move most quietly; armies have been searching for the elusive Lady Stoneheart, and the Brotherhood, for years, to no avail – you know how to be invisible when it counts. It counts now," Arya told them. "Shore, you are here, because I am going to need your help in convincing Aegon to allow me this, when I put it before his Grace."

Shore nodded. "I understand. And I shan't say a word until we speak to his Grace in King's Landing."

"Thank you. Gendry," Arya said, finally turning to him, "I'm going to need you to stay by my side while this is happening. You know why."

It was a simple statement and Gendry nodded to show that he understood. He knew that when Arya slipped her skin, she would be vulnerable; it would be up to him to protect her body while she was flying over the iron isles. If any of the others still gathered found this command strange they didn't let it show, though Harwin was watching him carefully.

"We'll discuss this more after Aegon takes the throne. Until then I ask you not to say a word of it, except to the six men who will be joining you." Arya said, a note of finality in her voice. "You can leave now, that's all I needed to say. I need to send a raven to Aegon, with details of my intentions – but I intend to strike out the day after tomorrow."

Gendry was the first to depart – if they were leaving the day after tomorrow, he had a lot of work to do. He was aware of Harwin following him half a step behind, and had a feeling the man had something on his mind. True to his instincts, when Gendry entered the forge, Harwin followed still maintaining a silence.

Gendry took his apron from the peg, and stoked the fire to get it blazing once again. He stole a glance at Harwin out of the corner of his eye – he had his grave face on, and so Gendry remained silent, waiting for him to make the first move.

Sure enough, after a couple of minutes, Harwin broke his silence. "Be careful, lad," he warned gently.

Gendry looked up at him, slightly confused, "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean she's your princess, one day she will be your queen. You're setting yourself on a slippery slope, and it is only going to end in your heart being broken."

Gendry turned his back to Harwin to concentrate on the steel, and hide the emotions in his eyes, "I don't know what you're talking about."

This was a lie he knew exactly what Harwin was talking about, but he wasn't going to admit it. Hell, he hadn't even admitted it to himself, and he was quite happy ignoring any emotion he felt connected to Arya, right now.

Harwin sighed, "I'm not going to lecture you, but I've seen the way you look at her " "Harwin " Gendry interrupted him, " I'm really busy, so if you wouldn't mind?"

Harwin stopped talking, but didn't leave clearly there was something else on his mind. "You haven't said anything about what happened yesterday afternoon," Harwin hedged. "About your parentage."

Gendry shrugged, "What is there to say? My father was probably a dead king so what? Doesn't change anything; I'm still just a blacksmith. Or are you going to give me the same speech Arya gave me earlier? That I'm most likely King Robert's eldest son bastard or no and I have as good a claim to the throne as Aegon has?"

"Is that something you would want? To claim the Iron Throne for yourself?"

Gendry sighed and put down his tools, "she asked me the exact same question," he admitted. "And what did you say?" Harwin probed after a minute, when Gendry didn't look like he was going to continue.

"I told her I didn't want the throne." "Were you being honest?"

"Yes," Gendry affirmed vehemently, and then looked less certain. "I guess. I always thought my father was some drunk, who spent half his life in the ale house no money, no name, nothing. To find out he was the King it's a lot to accept. I was never raised to be a king, I don't know the first thing about ruling a kingdom. But then I think about that brat, Joffrey: he was raised to be king, and he was a monster any idiot could rule better than him."

"Including you?" Harwin suggested, and Gendry nodded. "Yeah, including me. But is it what I really want?"

"Only you can answer that," Harwin said, taking a seat in the corner as Gendry picked up his hammer and began working steel once more.

As he worked, he thought: he thought of everything, but through the entire process he was conscious of a very prominant recurring theme to his thoughts and was thankful that Harwin could not read his mind.

Yes, he had quickly dismissed the idea of being king to Arya, but that was more shock than anything else until she had mentioned it, the idea had never entered his mind. But now he thought of it, it was an interesting idea. But could he really do it? Would he have the support? The brotherhood did look to him as a natural leader, and if he were to lay claim to the throne he was sure they would follow. But that would mean taking them away from Arya even though Arya said she would back him, and he would still fight with her in the end, it would stop her from claiming the North any time soon.

If Gendry were to try and take the Iron Throne, he would have to fight against Aegon and the Lannisters success would not be guaranteed and if he were successfull it would take many years. Arya was desperate to go home: she had been trying to go home for five years now, and she was still a long way off could he really delay her indefinitely? No, he didn't think he could do that to her.

Also, once Arya went North once she was back home Gendry knew she would never leave again; if Gendry took the throne, he would be back in King's Landing and he would never see her again. These past four years had been hell, knowing she was out there somewhere but being unable to see her. Now, he knew if he were in that situation again he wouldn't be able to stand it as much as he tried to deny it, Gendry had felt different since her return. There was something about Arya that drew him in; he wanted to be around her, he wanted to share in everything she did. He longed to see her smile and hear her laugh he even enjoyed seeing her angry; seeing the passion that ignited within her made her more beautiful. He tried to ignore the extent of these feelings, he knew he shouldn't be feeling them, but feel them he did. No, if taking the throne meant losing Arya which he felt it probably did then he didn't want it.

_But, perhaps it could mean the very opposite, _a tiny voice in his mind countered. _I__f __you __were __a __king, __you __would __be __someone: __a __someone __worthy __of __the __princess __in __the __North, __and __a __future __Queen_. He shook the thought out of his head as soon as it entered what did that matter? Even if, by some miracle of the gods, Arya were to return the feelings he had started to harbour and that would be the first and the last time he admitted to having such feelings being a king wouldn't make any difference to her. If anything, it would be more likely to put her off she would never marry someone who would e nd up trapping her in King's Landing.

Gendry shook his head to clear it once more the thought of marriage took him by surprise, and they were not thoughts he should be thinking. He had barely admitted to himself that his feelings for Arya were anything more than friendly and any possible return was out of the question: it would never happen. Nor would the thoughts that went around his head on a night, in those moments halfway between awake and sleeping, and the less he dwelt on them, the better. He had a choice to make: continue on as before, or make his claim and become a prominent player in the game for the Iron Throne; would he be a part of the war for the North, or start a war of his own for the south?

There were many factors to think of, but Gendry could only seem to focus on one: when he brought his choices back to their simplest form, it was a choice between the Iron Throne and Arya Stark. _You've __got __to __make __choices, __be __wrong __or __right. __Sometimes __you __have __to __sacrifice __what __you __like, _he told himself_. _But if choosing to claim the throne meant sacrificing Arya, then he had made his choice before he had even been given it: he chose Arya, he would choose her every time.

Something of his thoughts must have been visible on his face, for Harwin chose now to broke the silence that had settled for the past half hour. "Have you come to a final decision?"

"It's the same as my original," Gendry stated quietly. "I don't want the Iron Throne."

"Why?" It was a simple question, but Gendry couldn't find the right words to say how could he explain his reason without mentioning Arya, and adding fuel to the fire of suspicion that was already aflame in Harwin's mind? But while Gendry was trying to find his words, it seemed that Harwin had read some of them on his face, for before Gendry could speak, Harwin gave a low chuckle.

"What?" Gendry asked.

"It's nothing," Harwin shook his head, but Gendry frowned. "No, it's something. What is it?"

Harwin took a deep breath, and weighed his words carefully, "You and Robert; you're so alike, and yet so different."

Gendry frowned, confused, "What do you mean?"

"Robert's rebellion was brought about over Lyanna Stark. Your refusal to lay claim to the throne is brought about over Arya Stark, is it not? Your father chose to go to war for his wolf, and you chose to avoid war for yours."

Gendry shook his head, "I'm not avoiding war: I'm just choosing to fight _her_war, instead of starting one of my own."

Harwin nodded and stood, "As long as you are certain, because we leave in two days and there is nothing worse than going into a fight while you are uncertain of whom you fight for."

In the end, Arya and her party were the last to depart Stoney Sept, a day later than planned. Lady Mormont departed first, the same day as the meeting, returning to Greywater Watch with a letter from Arya. Maege was to deliver news of Arya's intentions, and ready the men at the Watch for Arya's arrival in the course of the coming months. If she was fortunate to meet Thoros along the way, she would direct him east, to the Kings Road, to meet with one of Arya's armies.

Arya had split the men into three seperate armies, each with a selection of Aegon's men, her own men, and men of the Brotherhood:

One was to march directly east towards the Kings Road, with the intention of joining Aegon's men who would be returning fro the Vale about now. This group was lead by Manton, Wull and Lem, with their own selection of comrades.

Another marched south, travelling along the blackwater before breaking off to meet Aegon himself. Shore, Norrey and Ned Dayne took lead of this group, and departed Stoney Sept at the same time as the others, two days after Lady Mormont.

The rest were to travel with Arya, straight over the blackwater to continue into King's Landing. Arya hadn't shared this particular part of the plan, but Gendry had a suspicion she had something figured out; she had sent her raven off directly after the meeting, the contents of its letter known only to her. The men knew there were parts if her plans that Arya was keeping from them, but while they speculated amongst themselves they never once doubted, or questioned, her.

Gendry was asked for the details on more than ne occasion, but could not enlighten them. "I'm certain she has some plan," Gendry said time and time again. "Just trust her, we'll know everything we need to know, when we need to know it."

* * *

_**A/N:**__**Thanks **__**for **__**reading, **__**next **__**chapter **__**is **__**back **__**to **__**Aegon, **__**I'll **__**get **__**it **__**ready **__**to **__**go **__**asap **_

_**xBx**_


	13. Chapter 13: Aegon

_**A?N: Sorry for the major delay - I actually finished a while ago, but forgot I hadn't posted it. But it's here now. Thanks for the reviews guys :)**_

_**Last chapter's lyrics were: **_**But you've got make choices, be wrong or right, sometimes you've got to sacrifice the things you like_ and that was from _Born to Try _by _Delta Goodrem. _This chapter has a line from a song by_ The Carpenters.**

* * *

**Chapter 13: Aegon**

Aegon and his men had been marching for weeks; they had left Storms End a full moon's turn after Arya Stark had departed north. True to her word, Arya had continued to alert Aegon of her progress, and he was surprised with the rapidity of her success. She had barely left them a month when he received the first raven, giving a brief account of a skirmish with some Lannisters and her assurance of an alliance with some of the brotherhood, at the very least. The letter also contained a warning of sorts:

_The host we fought were no trifling scouts; they were a large number, well formed, and no doubt the first of many. It would seem King's Landing are in fear of attack and wish to strengthen their defence. I will keep my side of our agreement, and send men to watch the routes East, and stop the Lannister armies making their way to the capitol, but I think the time is now right for you to call the Dornish army and begin your march._

The note was signed: _Arya Stark of Winterfell. _It seemed the last Stark was, at that time, yet to claim her title of princess, and Aegon believed she was sticking true to her original statement: her men would give her titles, and only time would tell what they would be.

That raven was received before breakfast, and another was dispatched to Dorne before the sun had reached its apex. The following days were a blur of continual activity as Aegon and his host prepared for the march they had been waiting for. Wagons, that were modified to be pulled across the snow, were loaded with provisions of food, armour and weapons, and before the week was out their journey began.

Their progress had been slow; they had been travelling for three weeks, and we're only now just coming upon the Rose Road, but morale was still high and hopeful. There was a sense of purpose and expectation among the men - this was the march they had been waiting for, the march they had been preparing for, and there was a sentiment of confidence in every man that gave the feeling of assured success. As they moved further north, they were coming across more and more scouts, though thankfully none survived to send word back to King's Landing. Every night, when they made camp, Aegon's own scouts would return, sometimes empty handed, sometimes with a live Lannister scout to be questioned and kept prisoner.

Since leaving Storms End, Aegon had received two more ravens from Arya herself: the first had found him two weeks into the march and simply told Aegon that the Brotherhood had sworn their swords to Arya, and that the men she had promised to dispatch were now blocking the ways east. It was short, simple, and direct to the point. But there was more to tell as this one had been signed _Arya Stark, Lady of Winterfell and Princess in the North_. Her first title had been embraced, and Aegon couldn't help but wonder when he would receive a note signed by _Arya Stark, Queen in the North_.

As well as the notes from Arya, Aegon was also being kept informed by his own men. When Arya had requested some of his ravens, Aegon had given instructions that only those specially trained to locate him, even while he marched, were to be sent with her. From his men he learnt of the circumstances that surrounded Arya's acceptance of the title of Princess, as well as a few brief notes detailing of Arya's conversations with her council, and her movements about her camp. He had not set his men to spy upon her, and nor had they taken it upon themselves to do so - they reported nothing of secrecy, only that which was public knowledge anyhow, but that Arya would not deem necessary to send word of. Aegon was told nothing that would cause him alarm, only mundane and trivial details of movements he would expect of one commanding an army, and in the end he gleaned little important information that he had not heard from Arya herself. The only additional information he received from his men, which Arya had failed to mention, was some further information in the movements of the Ironmen (which bore little importance to his current intentions and so Arya was forgiven for not mentioning it, but it would be useful in the future), and something about the discovery of the Usurper's bastard in the form of a blacksmith. Aegon didn't know how important this piece of information might prove, but currently it seemed of less consequence than the Ironmen's movements, and so Aegon put it to the back of his mind, for the time being.

There had been no ravens for the last two weeks, and while Aegon wasn't particularly worried by the silence, he couldn't help but wish for it to be broken soon - he did not like being kept in the dark for so long a time. _Though_, he reasoned with himself, _Arya Stark was not one to waste words; if she had something of import to say, it would be said_. Aegon had also had naught but silence from his men in the Vale since his departure from Storms End. Prior to then, they had kept up a fairly regular correspondence, though little information was ever given; there were many words written, but not a lot said. Aegon was certain, however, that sending envoys had not been a waste - though just how successful it had been would continue a mystery to him until they were to meet again, hopefully at King's Landing.

The last raven to be received from the Vale told Aegon that his men were planning to return south, and Aegon judged that they would be departing about the same time as Aegon and his men began their march. Aegon had thought of sending a raven with information of his intentions, but decided this course to be unwise, though certainly expeditious. Instead, he sent a couple of riders ahead, to cross the Blackwater and continue on up the King's Road with the intention of meeting the returning men - however many they may now be - not far from the capitol.

With so many unanswered questions, Aegon was beginning to feel wary about what was to come, despite the level of morale amongst his men. While he never let it show to his men, he could not help but become grave in his solitude as he longed for some word from somewhere, that might give him any indication that what he was about to attempt would be successful.

His wish was unexpectedly fulfilled in the form of the third raven from Arya Stark. It had found him this morning, though it was not one of his own birds that swept into his tent as he broke his fast. A large grey raven, like none he'd seen before, delivered a letter with the most surprising - yet welcome - information. The Princess was postponing her march north, and was instead moving for King's Landing. Her note detailed her intention of splitting her army to join Aegon's forces both north of the capitol and south, as well as keeping a number in between so that King's Landing would be surrounded on all sides. How she knew his men would be returning from the Vale, Aegon couldn't begin to imagine - he felt there was a lot more to this woman than met the eye, and his brief acquaintance with her had shown him nothing of who she could truly be. Her message also contained the strangest request, with little explanation:

_I intend to be within the walls of the city the day you arrive, but for my plan to succeed I need something only you can give: a note, directed to your men currently returning from the Vale, commanding them to storm the North-side gates of the city, while you storm those on the South-side, on the next moonless night. This letter must be written in your hand, signed with your name, and stamped with your seal. Tell no one of this request, and send the sealed message to me - the grey raven will know where to find me. My men will meet you just south of the Blackwater and will have more information for you._

Aegon wasn't sure what to make of this note, but he complied with it's contents nonetheless, sitting down immediately to pen the letter, including everything Arya had mentioned. He had hoped to be at King's Landing some time in the next fortnight, but if a delay was necessary in order to boost his numbers with Arya's men, he would gladly concede knowing that more numbers would help prodigiously - especially if some of those numbers were already inside the walls. He sent the raven back immediately, and as the grey bird took flight out through the flaps of the tent, Jon Connington limped in.

"Was that a raven?" He frowned.

Aegon nodded, "Arya Stark's own. She and her men are marching."

"North already? That was certainly quick."

Aegon shook his head, to Jon's evident surprise, "to King's Landing. Some of her men will be joining us; we'll cross the Rose Road and advance west toward the Blackwater, then make camp and wait."

"How long?"

Aegon shrugged, "However long it takes. But we will be in King's Landing at the next moonless night."

Jon's surprise doubled at the revelation f the delay, "that is nearly a month away; the moon was black but five days ago - why?"

Aegon smiled, "we'll have to wait and see."

It took another week to cross the Rose Road and find an adequate spot to set up camp. Aegon waited with patience, but his men were certainly confused about this change of pace, and even after Aegon told of the reason for the delay, they were still sceptical about the arrival of reinforcements. Each day they waited, the scepticism grew, though no one ever said a word aloud. After four days of waiting, the Dornish army had caught up to their camp, and made their own camp along side. When Aegon had gone to survey the Dornish numbers his surprise was great, though he didn't let it show. He made no comment, until he was back in his tent that evening with only Arianne for company.

"When were you going to tell me the truth?" Aegon demanded, and Arianne had the grace to look momentarily nervous.

"Is it of great importance, really, when you think on it? Your own army is of a healthy size - enough to take King's Landing-"

"No, no it is not!" Aegon cut her off. "Which is exactly why I needed the reinforcement of the Dornish - the size of which you knowingly exaggerated to me!"

"I represented the Dornish forces to you as everyone in Westeros believes them to be," Arianne argued.

"Yes, but everyone in Westeros was not counting on their numbers to win the Iron Throne! I am your King; I am to be your husband! What possessed you to lie to me, about something of this magnitude?" Aegon demanded.

"It is a lie we have told so many times," Arianne said quietly, after a moment's deliberation. "Dorne has seen no invasions, no attacks on our prosperity, for so long, because everyone else in Westeros believes our Army to be formidable in strength, number and skill. Our skill is not over-rated, but our numbers were - but who were we to deny it? As long as others continued to believe such a story, we were left well alone. And we were _feared_ - all it would take is one word from any of your men, and the truth would spread. Spread so quickly that it would soon enough reach King's Landing - and when it got there, you attack would strike little fear."

Aegon shook his head and gave a humourless sniff of laughter, "You've got miles of feeling and acres of pride - and usually that's a good thing. But, Arianne, they will find out when they see the numbers approaching - they will be gathering enough men to try and match our believed numbers. If they are successful, they will now outnumber us."

Arianne was quiet, and the silence continued until Aegon sighed and ran his hands through his hair. "Thank the gods for Arya Stark," he muttered.

The change in Arianne was immediate; one minute she was contrite and cautious, the next she was quietly bristling with anger, "what does that mean?"

"You already know what that means," Aegon said wearily. "We're waiting here for some of her men to join us, they should be here any day now."

"_Some_ of her men?" Arianne repeated coldly. "Not all of them, and not even the Princess herself? What a wonderful ally you made there."

"A third of her men will join us here," Aegon explained, keeping his face void of emotion. "Another third will be meeting Peake and the others returning south, and the rest are with the Princess herself going directly on to King's Landing. She plans to be in the city when we arrive - that should be useful to us don't you think?"

"How does she imagine she will gain entry?"

"I have an idea," Aegon said slowly, thinking back to the letter he had responded to.

Arianne waited expectantly for him to expand. "Would you care to enlighten me?" she asked eventually, when Aegon remained quiet. "I am to be your wife, your _Queen_, shouldn't you share these things with me?"

"I don't know the particulars," Aegon said, ignoring the jibe at his earlier reprimand to her. "But I know enough to trust her, when her men arrive I will be told more. And the fewer people who know the better."

"So you are just going to trust her blindly?" Arianne demanded, her temper flaring.

"I trusted you blindly," he reminded her, Aegon's own temper flaring again. "And that hasn't turned out as well as I had hoped. So no, I do not trust her blindly - I won't make the same mistake twice. As I said, she has given me enough information to surmise her intentions. We just have to wait as it plays out."

Aegon didn't take this argument to heart; both he and Arianne were beginning to feel the strain of waiting to take the throne. They were now so close, that each tiny delay was soon becoming unbearable; both were now ready, after so many years, to finally take their rightful places in King's Landing. Thankfully, this most recent delay came abruptly to an end, when Arya's men arrived at Aegon's camp a little before noon on the following day.

As Arya's host rested, the leaders of the group made their way to Aegon's tent, and when they arrived Aegon gave credit to Arya's tact and diplomacy. There were three men that greeted Aegon; the first was his own man, Shore, and he introduced the others as being Edric Dayne of Starfall - who was part of the Brotherhood - and Brynden Norrey of the North. Each man lead a score of men, so that all separate aspects of her retinue were equally represented, all united under a banner that had not been seen for years: the grey Direwolf of House Stark, on a white background. It was to Norrey whom Aegon principally spoke at first; a quiet man, but respectful and sensible, and easy to get along with.

"Now that you have joined us, what is it Arya Stark wishes us to do next?" Aegon asked Norrey, after the new arrivals had been refreshed.

"Proceed to King's Landing," Norrey said directly. "We left Princess Arya a day ago; she should reach the city in another three days, and from there gain entry with the hope of easing our own entry after her. She expects us to be near the gates, awaiting her signal in four days time."

"Four days? That will mean a hard march," Aegon said uneasily.

"Yes," Norrey nodded, but did not sound uneasy at all. "Hard, but possible, and it will be worth it, for our foe will not expect it. If we do everything Princess Arya has told us to do, there is no reason for us to fail." Norrey said this with such open conviction that Aegon could not help but believe him.

"And what is the signal we are to wait for?" Aegon then asked, remembering the earlier words. "How will we know when the time is right to charge?"

Norrey smiled, "The princess never actually gave a specific description of the signal she is to send - but she said we would know it, when we heard it."

"And you didn't press her for detail?" Aegon asked, slightly astounded that something this important could be unknown.

"No, I did not. I have complete faith in my liege - if she tells me we will now her signal when it comes, then I believe we shall. I have a suspicion, from the way she looked when she spoke of it, but I will not repeat it. You can never know just who is listening, and it is always better to keep as many things like this unsaid as you possibly can. Have faith," Norrey added, when Aegon began to look uncertain. "_A man who fears losing has already lost._"

Aegon frowned, "who told you that?"

"Princess Arya - it will do good to remember it in the coming days. We should continue on; make the most of the clear skies and cover as much ground as we can before night falls."

Aegon couldn't agree more, and so he gave orders to pack up and move on. They didn't cover much ground before nightfall, but the arrival of Arya's men had given a boost to his own; the excitement and anticipation that accompanied the expectation of an imminent battle spurred the men to continue on another few hours into the gathering dark. By they time they came to make camp for the night they had made good progress, and were on schedule to reach King's Landing by dawn on the fourth day.

* * *

_**A/N: Sorry again for the delay, I'll try and get the next one up quicker. Next chapter we're back to Arya :)**_

_**xBx**_


End file.
